


Flowers Among the Fallen Leaves

by garafthel (sister_wolf)



Series: Flowers of Autumn [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Character Death Fix, Dain is not actually evil, Dwarven Politics, Dysfunctional Family, Elven and Dwarven relations, Elven politics, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Not entirely canon-compliant, Pregnancy, Tauriel is pregnant but this is not really a pregnancy fic, Thranduil is not evil but he's not particularly nice, highly symbolic dreams about royalty, hinted Fili/Sigrid, minor Dís/OFC, minor pairing: Dwalin/Nori, minor pairing: Lindir/Elrohir, one-sided Tauriel/Elladan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 112,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/garafthel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins returned home in mourning after the Battle of the Five Armies. All of Middle-Earth knew that Thorin and his nephews had fallen in the battle. It seemed that all that was left to him was a quiet, lonely existence in his empty smial. Then fate in the form of a pregnant Silvan Elf came knocking at his door one night. </p><p>Bilbo Baggins, it seemed, had never been meant for the quiet life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mixture of movie and book canon and most of it was written before the release of The Hobbit: BOTFA, so there are major plot details that are now AU for the movieverse. Despite the way things appear at the beginning of the story, this actually is a BOTFA fix-it. It'll just take a while to get there.
> 
> Additional note: Dáin is not actually evil or a villain in this story, despite appearances. Feel free to message me if you need more specific information about Dáin's role in the plot before starting the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [runakvaed](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/) for creating [awesome cover art](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/post/84639890293/flowers-among-the-fallen-leaves-by-garafthel)!
> 
> Thank you to [Irrel](http://irrel.tumblr.com/) for creating [this absolutely gorgeous art](http://irrel.tumblr.com/post/110280012327/fanart-for-one-of-my-absolutely-favorite) of Kili and Tauriel as the Lovers Tarot card!

Bilbo Baggins returned to Bag End a little less than ten months after the day that he had run out his door following the song of a mountain king. 

To the folk of the Shire, Bilbo seemed unchanged from his adventures, though perhaps a bit richer (there were rumors of tunnels full of gold) and a bit less sociable than he once had been. It was a three day wonder, and quite the talk of the Shire until it was eclipsed by the news of Farmer Cotton's remarkable counting pig.

Bilbo tried to settle back into the rhythms of life in the Shire, but it felt as if he were trying to put on a pair of gloves that had shrunk. He didn't fit in the Shire anymore. Inside his heart he felt irreparably damaged by the loss of something he had never, he told himself, ever truly had.

There were voices he would never hear echoing in the halls of his smial again, silenced brutally on the battlefield. For the first few weeks, he tried to fill the silence with babbling, talking to himself and narrating his every move for an audience that did not exist. But the knock at the door never sounded, and the memory of laughter and song slowly faded into grey emptiness.

As the weeks passed and a cold, wet spring left everything feeling muddy and dull, he began to feel as if he had run out of words entirely. He went about his business from dawn to evening without more than a perfunctory "how d'you do" or "good morning" to the greengrocer or butcher's boy. In the evenings, he made a cold supper and ate in silence, retiring to his bed early only to lie awake until the coldest, darkest hours before dawn, when nothing seemed as if it would ever be bright and hopeful again.

It was during one of these dreary suppers a little over a month after his return to the Shire that a knock came unexpectedly at his door, just as Bilbo was contemplating whether he could even finish his plate of cheese and ham.

Bilbo froze, his heart leaping inside his chest. But no, he told himself. That had been no loud, demanding Dwarven knock. It had been a quiet, hesitant knock--probably a neighbor needing help with something but feeling guilty for disturbing him so late in the evening.

"Just a moment," he called, tightening the belt of his robe as he stood. The colorful patchwork robe, a gift from his Great-Aunt Pansy, hung loosely from his reduced frame. He just couldn't seem to regain the weight he'd lost during the journey.

He didn't recognize the figure standing at his doorway at first. She was standing mostly turned away and so all he saw was a spill of long, red hair across the shoulder of a traveling cloak. A Big Person, at his doorway at this time of night? 

"Errr, can I help you?" Bilbo asked.

The Big Person glanced at him over her shoulder, a wide smile spreading across her face. " _Mae g'ovannen, mellon nín_."

Her presence in the Shire seemed so entirely incongruous, like a white swan in the middle of a flock of dull grey geese, that Bilbo could only gape at her for a few moments. "Tauriel?"

Turning to face him, she inclined her head gravely. "I am glad to see you well." 

Bilbo tried to stifle a gasp. Her beautiful face bore a livid scar that stretched from jaw to temple on the right side, intersecting with her hairline. He remembered the wound--her face slashed to the bone as she struggled to reach Kíli where he stood defending Thorin's fallen body from the terrible blows of Azog's mace. He shuddered at the memory, hoping belatedly that she would not think that was a response to her scar.

"As--as am I," he stuttered. "Come in, come in! It's too chilly of a night to stand out on the doorstep."

She bowed her head before stepping across the threshold. "I thank you for your hospitality, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

"May I take your cloak?"

She hesitated, an odd expression on her face. He would almost call it fear, though that seemed unlikely from the warrior who had hamstrung Azog the Defiler, putting the huge Orc at just the right height for a Hobbit with an Elvish letter-opener and a vast ocean of rage to launch himself into the air and bury said letter-opener in Azog's chest to the hilt. 

Bilbo shook himself out of the memory, realizing that Tauriel had still not taken off her cloak. She bit her lip and then slowly unfastened the clasp and pulled the enveloping fabric away from her body.

It was well known that Hobbits were a fecund folk. In fact, "breed like Hobbits" was a common saying among the Men of Bree. Bilbo had seen more pregnant women in his time than he could count. So there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that the pronounced swell of Tauriel's belly only meant one thing.

"Oh dear," Bilbo said, and promptly fainted on his entryway rug.

***

Tauriel, late of the Forest Guard of Mirkwood, looked down at him with an expression of surprised dismay. "I always thought Kíli was having me on when he said that Bilbo had fainted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:  
> smial - the Hobbitish term for a Hobbit hole  
> mae g'ovannen, mellon nín - you are well met, my friend


	2. Tea and Gossip

"I am perfectly fine, I'm so sorry to have been any trouble." Bilbo cradled his hands around his mug of tea, breathing in the soothing steam to settle his nerves. 

Seated across the fireplace from him in the chair sized for Big People, Tauriel shook her head. "There is no need for you to apologize. I know that it must have come as a shock to see me... like this."

"A bit of a shock, yes." He took a calming sip of tea. "How came you to be in the Shire? Why are you not with your kinfolk? Not that you are unwelcome here, because you are very welcome indeed."

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I was banished by King Thranduil directly after the battle."

"What? You can't be serious! Why, I should give that Elvenking a good scolding. Banishing you, after all you did for us!"

"I committed treason by disobeying direct orders from my King and my Prince. I do not deny that he had reason to banish me." She paused, an elusive smile playing at her lips. "Though I must admit that I would much enjoy seeing you give King Thranduil a scolding."

"But how could he banish you from your home?"

"He is the King." She shook her head and spread her hands out. "King Thranduil's word is law in the Woodland Realm. Do you not have royalty in the Shire?"

"Stuff and nonsense! I'd like to see some jumped up Bracegirdle just try to set himself up as King. He'd be laughed out of the Shire." He waved a hand impatiently. "But that's beside the point. My dear, it's been five months since the battle. Where have you been?"

"I traveled northwest from Erebor, skirting the northern border of Mirkwood, and crossed the Misty Mountains by Mount Gundabad. It was a...difficult journey."

Bilbo's mouth dropped open. For an Elf to describe a journey as "difficult" must mean that she had almost died half a dozen times. "Mount Gundabad? Isn't that where Azog and his Orc army came from?"

"Indeed." She inclined her head, a tiny smile playing around her lips. "It was greatly depopulated by the battle, and even more by the time I was done with it."

"Honestly. Elves. You're almost as insane as Dwarves." Bilbo felt his smile die as he remembered. He cleared his throat. "But why didn't you take the High Pass? Gandalf and I took that on the return journey and I wouldn't say it was a walk in Frogmorton, exactly, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the first time around. No Storm Giants this time, thank goodness."

"I felt it best to avoid the more traveled routes."

He shook his head. "Why?"

She paused, her gaze dropping to the hand she had been absently cradling her belly with. Ah. The Oliphaunt in the room, as it were.

"I don't wish to be impertinent, but the parentage of your child...I mean...I take it that you...and Kíli...?"

Her pointed ears flushed dull red at the very tips. "Two nights before the Battle, Kíli and I were wed under the stars in the manner of my people."

"Wed? I didn't think--there wasn't really time for the reading of the banns, was there?" She looked as if she had no idea what he was talking about. "Never mind. I must admit, I didn't realize that Dwarves and Elves could...erm. Populate."

Tauriel's eyes widened and her voice lowered emphatically as she said, "Because they cannot. It is impossible."

Bilbo waved his teacup vaguely in the direction of her belly. "I hate to contradict you, but from where I'm sitting it looks a bit more than possible."

"It is true that I bear the proof of it, but...I still can hardly believe it is possible. I have never heard tales of any offspring of Dwarves and Elvenkind." She absently pushed back a length of hair that had slipped in front of her shoulder. Bilbo noticed that the firelight glinted off newly white strands where the scar ran into her hairline.

"Perhaps no one knows it's possible because it's always been swept under the rug. There's a fair number of Hobbit lasses who move away for a year and when they return they're coincidentally both new widows and new mothers. No one ever asks about their supposed dead husband because everyone knows that there wasn't one."

"Or else no believes that it is possible because no one has ever borne a child of Dwarven and Elven heritage successfully to term."

"That is also a possibility," Bilbo admitted reluctantly. "Now, I must ask again, Tauriel--why are you here? I mean, specifically here, in the Shire at my door in the middle of the night?"

She paused for a long moment, pouring tea into her teacup and then stirring honey in with such vigor that Bilbo feared for his mother's Westfarthing pottery yet again. "You were the only person I could think of who might help me, Bilbo Baggins. I can do many things on my own, but even I have to admit that I cannot bear this child alone. I had hoped that your Shire healers might be able to help when the time comes."

"And how long do we have until said time? If you were a Hobbit, that would be another four months."

"Elven pregnancies are generally twelve months. But with a babe of Dwarven and Elven blood...I have no idea. I do not know how long Dwarven pregnancies last."

"I see." Bilbo took a long, steadying sip of tea. "No aspersions upon the skills of our midwives, but I think that the only known progeny of an Elf and a Dwarf might require a more advanced healer. Have you thought about going to Lord Elrond? He is the finest healer in Middle Earth, they say."

A tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. "Why would he help me? I am not one of his subjects."

"Because he's--he's _Lord Elrond_ ," Bilbo sputtered. "Of course he would help you!"

"You have a great faith in the kindness of the world, _mellon nín_. Lord Elrond has no reason to help me, and two excellent reasons not to: I am banished from the Woodland Realm for treason and thus helping me in any way would cause tension with King Thranduil, and I bear a child that both Elves and Dwarves would consider to be an abomination."

"First of all, Lord Elrond is half-Elven himself, or three-quarters or whatnot--it's really all very confusing--so I think it highly unlikely he would be prejudiced against your half-Elven offspring. Secondly, I think you overestimate the degree to which displeasing King Thranduil would be of any concern to him whatsoever. In fact, I think it's fair to say that annoying King Thranduil would be a bit of a bonus from Lord Elrond's perspective."

"I will not go to Imladris like a beggar to the door." 

Their stubborn pride was another way in which Dwarves and Elves were not so very different after all. Sometimes Bilbo wondered if Hobbits were the only sensible people in the world. Though the Man of Lake-Town, Bard, had been fairly reasonable, so perhaps it was just Elves and Dwarves who were completely impossible to reason with.

"You know," he said casually, "it's a fine coincidence that you happened to visit now. I've been thinking of visiting Rivendell again, but the journey is far too dangerous to make on my own. I would much appreciate your willingness to accompany me as my traveling companion.

"Bilbo, I know very well that you had no such plans to visit Imladris. I cannot take your charity."

"Please," Bilbo said, setting down his teacup and leaning forward with his hands clasped together. "Please let me do this for you, for the sake of the love that we both bore for the line of Durin."

Meeting his eyes for a long moment, she finally nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Though we will keep the Hobbit midwife as a back-up plan, just in case Lord Elrond throws me out of Imladris."

"I assure you, he will not turn you away." Bilbo clapped his hands together briskly. "Now that's settled, why don't we make a late supper of it? I find that for some reason I'm absolutely famished."

After a late supper of boiled eggs, ham, chicken, cheese, toasted bread, and a jar of strawberry preserves that had somehow been overlooked during the Dwarves' pillaging of his pantry, he settled Tauriel into the guest room with the largest bed. The bed was still a fair bit shorter than an Elf, but she assured him that she usually slept curled up anyway and would be absolutely fine. 

The room he gave her had once been his parents' bedroom. After his mother's death, he had never felt right about taking the room for his own even though it was the largest bedroom in the smial. Bilbo paused outside the door, hearing her moving about the room as she settled in, and reflected with a twinge of fond sorrow that his mother would have very much liked Tauriel. They shared the same adventurous--some would call it reckless--spirit.

Breakfast was relatively small, just fried eggs, bacon, oatcakes, and the other remaining jar of strawberry preserves. 

"I hope you don't mind the meager breakfast," Bilbo said, sliding a second helping of bacon onto Tauriel's plate. "I've been keeping a fairly light pantry since my return. I became accustomed to the Dwarvish way of eating while I was on the Quest. I've recently taken to eating only three meals a day. Don't tell Mrs. Greenhand, she already thinks I'm too thin."

"How many times a day do Hobbits normally eat?"

"Six, generally. Why?"

She stared at him. "We're going to need to buy provisions."

"And I suppose I shall need a pony," Bilbo sighed. "This time I'm going to remember to bring handkerchiefs."

An inquiry into where Tauriel had stabled her horse led to the revelation that she had _walked_ halfway across Middle Earth. "Honestly, _Elves_."

They could not set out for Rivendell without rather more preparations than Bilbo had made before running out his door the year before. His personal affairs had been in a shambles when he returned from the Quest and he had very nearly lost ownership of Bag End to his dreadful Sackville-Baggins relatives. It took almost a week to get his will in proper order so that in case of his death Bag End would go to his Took relatives. ("Just in case of Orcs, or Wargs, or oh I suppose there could be Trolls, too," he told his horrified-looking solicitor.)

Seeming restless within the confines of Bag End, Tauriel walked with him to the solicitor's and the market. Bilbo had expected the residents of Hobbiton to shy away from Tauriel, so tall and exotic-looking with her long red hair and finely pointed ears, not to mention the knives that she insisted on carrying everywhere, though she had at least agreed to leave her bow and arrows at home. 

He had underestimated the magnetic allure of a visibly pregnant, young-looking woman to the goodwives of the Shire. The Elf was overwhelmed with well-meaning advice, patterns for booties and caps ("What is _crochet_?" she asked later, turning a piece of paper around and around as if that might make the arcane symbols scratched onto it make sense), and stories. Oh yes, there were stories.

"This is appalling," Tauriel hissed, having extricated herself with some difficulty from a clump of gossiping goodwives. "Wherever I go, Hobbit women insist on telling me about their pregnancies in detail. _Intimate detail_ ," she stressed when Bilbo apparently failed to look appropriately horrified.

"I'm sure they mean well," he soothed.

"Goodwife Cotton just told me that she was in labor for twenty hours with her first and that it was more painful than the time she was gored by a bull."

"If it makes you feel better, she was really only very lightly gored. Barely gored at all."

Tauriel gave him an incredulous look as they headed up the hill towards Bagshot Row.

"At any rate, we should be ready to head out on our journey tomorrow. Got the very last of our provisions," he said, waving the oilcloth-wrapped package he had been carrying tucked under his arm. "Old Toby."

"It all smells like burning leaves to me. I never understood why Kíli--" She stopped speaking abruptly, her mouth snapping closed on the words. They walked for a few minutes in silence.

"When I first came back to the Shire I smoked the terrible pipeweed that Bofur gave me before I left Erebor. Harsh, nasty stuff, but the way it smelled... it was like I was back in camp on the Quest. With Fíli and Kíli causing mischief of one kind or another, and Thorin sitting at the edge of camp, smoking and staring out into the distance as if he could see the Lonely Mountain if only he looked hard enough." 

Bilbo paused as he opened the garden gate. "I put the Dwarven pipeweed away that night and haven't touched it since."

"Do you think it will ever get any easier?" She sounded much younger than her six hundred years.

"I hope so," he said, smiling up at her sadly. "I really do hope so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:  
> smial - the Hobbitish term for a Hobbit hole  
> mellon nín - my friend


	3. The Road to Rivendell

They set out for Rivendell on a brilliantly sunny, though slightly chilly, morning in early April. Tauriel rode a small horse with such an unpleasant disposition that Bilbo insisted on referring to the nag as Lobelia. Bilbo had acquired a fat, sweet-tempered pony by the unlikely name of Marmalade who reminded him of his dear, most-likely-departed Myrtle.

Though they had not made any public announcement of their departure, a small crowd gathered at the edge of Hobbiton to wish them well and press a few parting gifts upon them. By the time they extricated themselves, it had gone on half past nine and Bilbo was idly contemplating whether they could justify stopping for second breakfast. 

In the end, they pressed on and made an early lunch around eleven, sitting on a bench that had been carefully placed next to a pleasant overlook. Bilbo knew that soon he would miss the carefully tended roads and paths of the Shire. 

Bilbo finished his half-loaf of crusty, fresh-baked bread with a wistful sigh. This too was something that he would miss soon. It was possible to make a sort of flatbread on a flat stone in the coals of a campfire, but it just wasn't the same as a freshly made, fluffy loaf of bread with a crisp crust.

Sitting on the bench beside him, Tauriel held up a pair of crocheted baby booties with a baffled-looking expression. "I have been gifted yet another pair of infant-sized soft footwear--"

"Booties," Bilbo corrected absently.

"At last count I had been gifted near a dozen pairs. How many _booties_ does an infant truly need?"

"I have absolutely no idea. No siblings, and my cousins were never that close to me. You?"

"Yes?" 

"Do you have any siblings? Younger cousins?"

"Only if you count Legolas. And he was near full-grown when King Thranduil took me in. My clan--my family, in Hobbit terms--is dead."

"I'm so sorry." Bilbo did not press for details. She would tell him more if she wanted to. He had weathered more than enough intrusive questions on his own after his parents' deaths.

"I have never really been around children that much. The Elves of Mirkwood do not have many children in these darker days." She bowed her head, hiding her scar behind the auburn fall of her hair. Quietly, she admitted, "I know nothing about babies, how to raise them, what they need...In truth, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing."

"Neither do I. Confirmed bachelor, never thought I'd need to know such things. We shall have to figure it out together, I'm afraid."

"Yes, I suppose so." She rubbed her belly absently. Bilbo had noticed that was a new habit of hers.

"We killed Azog the Defiler together, did we not? Surely between the two of us we can figure out how to care for one baby." Bilbo tucked his thumbs into his vest pockets, smiling up at her. His right thumb nudged the ring that rested inside his pocket. He'd almost forgotten that was in there, how very odd. 

Tauriel gifted him with one of her brilliant full smiles. "Truly the Valar smiled on me the day you stole a dozen Dwarves from under my nose. I am so very grateful that you are with me on this journey."

"Yes, well. No need to make a fuss." Clearing his throat, he added, "And in case it was not clear, you and your child are most welcome to stay with me at Bag End for as long as you would like."

"You are indeed a better friend than I could ever have hoped for, Bilbo Baggins."

"Just keep that in mind when you discover how grumpy I can be after a night of sleeping on rocks and pinecones."

She nodded to him gravely, but with a distinct twinkle in her eyes. "So noted."

The terrain slowly became more wild as they left the carefully tended farmlands of the Shire behind. At Tauriel's request, they bypassed Bree, spending a day skirting around it and then rejoining the Great East Road well past the town's walls.

That night, as they relaxed by their small campfire, Bilbo brought up the fact that they'd bypassed Bree. "It's a bit paranoid, isn't it? I mean, it's not as if someone can look at you and know you're, err..."

"Bearing the world's only known half-Elven, half-Dwarven child?" She looked at him sidelong, amusement narrowing her eyes.

"A Dwelf?"

"I cannot call my child a Dwelf," Tauriel snorted. "That is entirely undignified. In all seriousness, though, there is good reason for me to remain unremarked. It was known to some that Kíli and I were romantically entangled. For me to be seen less than a year later, heavily pregnant? That news could easily end up in the wrong ears."

"Wrong ears? What do you mean?"

She cocked her head at him. "The child that I bear is the rightful heir to Erebor, Bilbo. Hadn't you realized that?"

"But... Dáin Ironfoot is King of Erebor, is he not?"

"As I understand it, he is a cousin to the royal line and has the best claim to it if there are no male heirs within the direct line of inheritance. If my child is male, then he is heir to the throne of Erebor; if she is female, then she is a tool or a bargaining chip."

Bilbo felt a little dizzy. "This is why Hobbits don't hold with royalty. First you've got kings and queens and then..."

"And then you have wars of succession." Tauriel shook her head. "And that is not even counting those who would probably want to kill my child for being an abomination."

"I can't imagine--this is all so very strange to me. We don't have wars of succession in the Shire. My Sackville-Baggins relatives tried to take Bag End from me, but that's about as close as it comes."

"Did you challenge them to single combat?"

"No, of course not! It was all just a bit of legal bother. I never did get all of my silver spoons back. Single combat, don't be ridiculous!" He looked at her and saw her quickly hidden smile. "Oh. You're teasing me."

"A little." She sighed, looking up at the stars. "I would very much like to raise this child in your Shire. A quiet, unimportant life, entirely unremarked by the world; that is what I would wish for. 

"But I fear we are neither of us fated for a peaceful life, Bilbo Baggins."

Beside them the campfire crackled quietly, a small island of light in a world that suddenly seemed almost as large and dangerous to Bilbo as it had a year ago on his first journey to Rivendell.

***

They had gotten close enough to Rivendell without encountering trouble that Bilbo had begun to hope that the trip might be entirely free of unpleasantness. He really should have known better.

There had been two days of the sort of steady, monotonous rain that eventually seeped into every crevice of one's person and left the world feeling strangely muffled. Huddled into his cloak and lulled into near-somnolence by Marmalade's plodding gait, the first sign that Bilbo had of trouble was the clash of metal on metal as Tauriel engaged an attacker.

Looking wildly around, Bilbo saw that they had been ambushed in a small ravine by at least a half dozen Orcs, mounted on Wargs. Throwing his cloak back, Bilbo shouted as he drew Sting.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Tauriel slicing at the Orcs with her long Elvish daggers, as agile as if she were not five months pregnant. Bilbo put that out of his mind in order to concentrate on his own attackers, lest he be unlucky enough to survive the Battle of the Five Armies only to fall to a random Orc ambush.

Bilbo made a note to thank Dwalin, if he ever saw the warrior again, for insisting on teaching him the basics of mounted combat. Marmalade was no war-pony, but she showed her spirit by not panicking as Bilbo wheeled her around to flank a mounted Orc.

He managed a lucky blow to the Orc's vitals. It shrieked and fell from its mount, but two others moved in to trap Bilbo between their Wargs. One of the Wargs feinted for Marmalade's neck and she reared, dumping Bilbo onto the muddy ground.

Disoriented, Bilbo blinked up at the sky, barely managing to roll out of the way of an Orcish sword. 

Regaining his feet, he assessed the situation. A quick glance to the side showed him Tauriel also fighting on foot, facing off against two Orcs of her own. No help could come from that quarter.

Well, if he was to die in a muddy ravine in the middle of nowhere, his death would be dearly won. Backing up slowly, Bilbo eyed the Wargs' snapping teeth and prepared to lunge for the belly of the closest one.

Both Orcs sprouted black-fletched arrows in their throats at the same moment, stiffening and then falling limply from their Wargs' backs. Bilbo gaped in astonishment as two more arrows hit an eye socket of both Wargs at precisely the same time.

Spinning around, he saw Tauriel covered in mud and holding bloody daggers in either hand, standing over a small pile of dead Orcs. Behind her two dark-haired Elf warriors rose simultaneously from behind the cover of a rocky outcropping.

Bilbo shook his head, blinking hard. He didn't think he'd hit his head when Marmalade threw him, but he appeared to be seeing double. The two Elves were completely identical in face and coloring, and even their clothing and the weapons they carried were the same.

"Ho there, travelers," one of them said, stepping forward while the other one kept his bow at the ready. Not a hallucination then; identical twins. "What brings you to these lands?"

Bilbo stepped forward with what he hoped was a confident-looking smile. "We have traveled here to take Lord Elrond up on his generous offer of hospitality in Rivendell. I am Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire."

"Your name is known to me," the Elf said. "What is your name, flame-haired warrior?"

Tauriel flicked the blood and gore off her daggers and sheathed them neatly before turning to face the newcomers. "I am called Tauriel."

Bilbo noticed a flicker of surprise across the Elf's previously impassive face as he registered her pregnant belly. "This is a dangerous land to travel in without protection."

"That is why Master Baggins retained me as his bodyguard." Tauriel's expression was perfectly pleasant and her voice completely bland, but Bilbo could tell that she was annoyed by the implication that she might need protection. "You have my thanks for your assistance in taking care of the last few stragglers."

The two Elven warriors exchanged glances and then the one who had not spoken yet shouldered his bow. Bilbo let out a careful breath and relaxed slightly.

"Greetings, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire and Tauriel. We are Elladan and Elrohir, sons of Lord Elrond." 

Elladan was the talkative one. His twin Elrohir gave them a suspicious look out of dark grey eyes and then started checking the Orcs to make sure they were actually dead.

"My father had not mentioned that you would be visiting," Elladan said. 

Bilbo smiled at him with slightly exaggerated cheer. He had found in his travels that being very cheerful and friendly tended to make Big People underestimate his intelligence. "Oh, it was a last-minute decision. My goodness, it will be ever so nice to see Lord Elrond again. Shall we?"

They discovered that Tauriel's horse had been killed during the battle. Bilbo briefly felt bad about having named her Lobelia, but it was not as if her namesake would ever know. Marmalade had survived the attack no worse for wear and was easily recovered from the far end of the ravine, where she had stopped to nibble complacently on the grass. They loaded Lobelia's saddlebags onto her.

Elladan bowed to Tauriel. "I am afraid you will need to ride with me, as my horse will obey no commands except mine."

Tauriel was clearly reluctant, but Marmalade could not possibly carry Lobelia's saddlebags, Bilbo, and Tauriel all at the same time. She rode in front of Elladan, looking stiff and uncomfortable to Bilbo's eyes.

As they rode, he overheard Elladan ask her something in Sindarin. Bilbo's spoken Sindarin was only good enough for him to pick up that it had been a question about location.

"My lord, would it not be more courteous to speak in a language that all present can understand?" Tauriel asked.

Elladan nodded and said smoothly, as if he had been speaking Westron all along, "Your accent is unfamiliar to me. Where do you hail from? "

"I was born on the shores of the Long Lake, beyond the Misty Mountains."

"Ah, you're from the Woodland Realm then."

"I am not a subject of King Thranduil," Tauriel said flatly and in a tone that discouraged any further questioning.

Bilbo hurried to fill the awkward silence. "Goodness me, I didn't realize that Lord Elrond had twin sons. You must have been away the two times I've been to Rivendell."

"We spend much of our time on the hunt." Elladan paused and exchanged a look with Elrohir. "And the last time you were in Imladris, we were returning from Lothlórien. Visiting our kin," he offered, though Bilbo had not asked.

"I see. Say, how much longer will it take to reach the valley?"

"About three hours."

"Oh, wonderful, just in time for dinner! You know, I had the most wonderful salad the last time I was there. I shall have to remember to ask for the recipe." 

Bilbo kept up the stream of inane chatter as they rode. No one could best a Hobbit's ability to create an impenetrable wall of smalltalk. Thus the son of Lord Elrond was kept neatly from asking any more potentially awkward questions of Tauriel for the remainder of the ride.

Bilbo heard a distant horn sound as they passed through the tall stone pillars at the edge of the hidden valley. As they entered the valley he felt himself relax immediately, all his feelings of worry and stress falling away under the spell of the peaceful beauty of Rivendell.

"The Marchwardens will have notified my father of our arrival," Elladan said. "They are the hidden sentinels of the approaches to Imladris."

"I spotted them about three quarters of an hour ago." Tauriel looked amused in her quiet way as she added, "Your Marchwardens may need to work on their hiding skills."

Elladan said nothing, but Bilbo thought he looked chagrined.

The horses' hooves clattered on the stone of the alarmingly high bridge over the ravine. Bilbo doggedly avoided looking over the side. Honestly, what did both Elves and Dwarves have against handrails?

They drew to a halt in the courtyard where Bilbo had stood just a little less than a year ago surrounded by the Company. Thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a meddling Wizard, on their way to re-take Erebor with absolutely no idea of the dangers they would face on the way. His heart hurt at the memory of how young Kíli and Fíli had been, and how strong and utterly self-confident Thorin had seemed to him at the time.

Lord Elrond himself appeared at the top of the stairs. " _Mae g'ovannen_ , Bilbo Baggins. I had not hoped to see you again so soon," he said as he walked gracefully down the steps with Lindir following along behind him like a faithful shadow.

"Lord Elrond, it is a pleasure as always. May I introduce to you my companion Tauriel."

Stepping away from Elladan's horse, which had partly obscured her from Lord Elrond's sight, Tauriel bowed gracefully. "My lord."

One of Lord Elrond's eyebrows twitched upward very slightly, his only visible reaction to Tauriel's obvious pregnancy. " _Gi nathlam hí_. Any friend of Bilbo's is welcome in Imladris. Come, Lindir will show you to your chambers so that you may refresh yourselves before dinner." 

"You always bring the most interesting companions to my dinner table, Bilbo Baggins," Lord Elrond said with a sidelong look as they walked up the steps.

Trotting to keep up, Bilbo gave him a nervous smile. "I do hope that it's a good sort of interesting."

"Hmmm," was all Lord Elrond said, but Bilbo thought that he seemed to be smiling, ever-so-slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations: 
> 
> Mae g'ovannen - you are well met  
> Gi nathlam hí - you are welcome here


	4. The Heart Is a Curious Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some discussion of passively suicidal behavior.

After they refreshed themselves in the suite of rooms they were led to by Lindir, Tauriel and Bilbo were fetched by a page to join Lord Elrond and his sons at dinner. Bilbo was relieved to see that Lindir was allowed to sit down at the table with them as well, apparently not expected to stand by and wait to serve his lord when it was not a state dinner.

The task of keeping the conversation going mostly fell to Elladan and Bilbo, as none of the rest of the table tended to be talkative at the best of times.

"How are you finding Eriador so far?" Elladan directed the question at Tauriel, who so far had spoken very little.

"Relatively Orc-free," she replied with a tight smile that did not encourage further questioning.

The conversation foundered for a moment. Bilbo cast about for a way to salvage it. "Elladan, you mentioned that you had visited Lothlorien. Is it truly as beautiful as the legends say?"

Elves could always be counted on to wax rhapsodic over trees. Bilbo sat back with a quiet sigh of relief as conversation shifted to the beauty of the Mallorn trees.

"Arwen says they are more beautiful in the spring, of course," Elladan concluded.

Bilbo's ears perked up. "Arwen?" That was not a name he had heard before.

"My daughter," Lord Elrond explained. "She has been staying with her grandparents for a while."

"Ah, so they live in Lothlorien?"

Lord Elrond's mouth quirked a little. "They rule Lothlorien. My wife's parents are Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel."

"Ah. Oh my." Bilbo wasn't entirely sure how it was that he kept stumbling over royalty wherever he went in Middle Earth. Why, he'd traveled with the Company for months before discovering that essentially everyone except Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur were Dwarven nobility. (Though there appeared to be some controversy about Dori, Nori, and Ori's exact relationship to the Line of Durin.)

"If you stay in Imladris long enough, you will get to meet Arwen. She is planning on returning this coming spring, once the High Pass is clear of snow."

"How long are you planning on visiting?" Elladan asked. "It is fortuitous that you reached Rivendell in the spring, for once the first snow falls, travel across Rhudaur can become treacherous. And with your... condition..."

"Ah, you are right, travel across flat, easy land in the snow would be far too dangerous for me," Tauriel said. 

Bilbo stiffened in his seat, alerted to possible trouble by the sweet, reasonable tone of voice she had adopted. He had discovered that that tone of voice generally preceded her cutting someone's head off, sometimes literally.

"So much more dangerous than crossing the Misty Mountains through the Orc tunnels of Mount Gundabad on my own. How foolish of me."

"No one could take those tunnels alone and survive," Elladan scoffed. "Not without a hundred warriors at your back could you do this."

Tauriel just smiled at him with a nearly cat-like expression of smugness. Bilbo restrained himself from rolling his eyes with great difficulty. Honestly, _Elves_.

Talk shifted to inconsequential matters then as the conversation was steered adeptly by Lord Elrond. After dinner, Bilbo and Tauriel took a walk through the grounds. The sound of night birds singing from the trees and the musical murmur of the falls imbued the evening with a feeling of serenity.

They wandered for a while in comfortable silence until Bilbo stopped, looking around in surprise.

"Why, I do believe I've been here before. This is where Thorin and I spoke together before we went to have the moon runes read." The memory made his heart ache in a familiar way. "He always seemed so strong and self-assured to me back then. You know, I think this is where I began to fall in love with him."

"It is a beautiful place to fall in love," Tauriel said as they began to meander again.

"It is, it is... but I have to admit that I am stretching the truth to make myself look better. The truth is, I began to fall in love with Thorin the first night I met him. Even though he insulted me and treated me like a silly, spoiled child." Bilbo chuckled. "Doesn't show good judgement on my part, I suppose."

"Do not feel too foolish," Tauriel said with a rueful smile. "The first time I met Kíli, he asked if I wanted to search his trousers for weapons."

Bilbo's mouth dropped open. "No. Surely you're joking."

"Sadly, no. And yet I still fell in love with him. The heart is a curious thing, is it not?"

They continued down the stairs, finding a balcony tucked out of the way that had a bench with a lovely view of the falls under the moonlight. The bench required a somewhat undignified hop up in order for Bilbo to sit upon it, but he managed.

"Tauriel... may I ask you a personal question?"

She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. Bilbo blushed and began to stammer an apology. 

"No, I am sorry, do not apologize! Bilbo, you are the only friend I have left in Middle Earth. You may ask me as many personal questions as you wish."

Distracted from his original question, he asked, "But what about Prince Legolas?"

"Legolas..." She sighed. "He is angry at me for disobeying King Thranduil and leaving the Woodland Realm. He thinks that I betrayed his father's trust and walked away from my people for the sake of an infatuation with a Dwarven prince. He doesn't understand why I helped the Dwarves of Erebor. I am not sure he ever will."

"I am sorry for that. While it's not the same thing, I understand the feeling of having no one around you understand why you would ever leave home. There is no way that I've found to explain it to someone who never has."

She nodded pensively. "You said you had a personal question for me."

"I do. It's regarding your decision to cross the Misty Mountains through the Orc tunnels. Elladan seemed very certain that no one could do that alone and live. Tauriel, were you...were you trying to kill yourself?"

"No," she said immediately. There was a pause as Tauriel's face registered internal turmoil, and then she added, "Not exactly. I did not seek out death, but I will not lie and say that there was not a certain part of me that would have welcomed an honorable death in battle."

Bilbo wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. The Dwarven and Elven attitude toward dying in battle was utterly foreign to him. Most Hobbits tried actively to _avoid_ battle--nasty, uncomfortable things, as Bilbo had once told Gandalf about adventures. 

"It took me weeks to get through the Orc tunnels. I nearly died a few times," she said quietly. "It was pitch dark in there, except for a sickly phosphorescence from a variety of fungus that thrives in the tunnels."

***

The Orc fell with a dying rattle of air from punctured lungs. Tauriel cast her gaze about, looking for any more enemies, but that appeared to be the last of the small group of Orcs that she had unexpectedly encountered in a side tunnel. 

It had been a short but brutal fight. She had been tired and already wounded from an earlier battle. This time an Orc had gotten in a lucky hit on her side, slicing through the leather of her armor.

Clutching her side with her left hand, Tauriel swayed on her feet. Blood seeped between her fingers as she sheathed her right-hand dagger and searched for its twin, spotting it sticking out of the skull of a particularly hard-headed Orc. She knelt to retrieve it and lost her balance, falling forward onto both hands. 

"This doesn't look good at all," she heard a familiar voice say. "Tauriel, my _bavonursinh_ , are you all right?"

Turning her head to the side and blinking hard to clear her eyes of the blood which trickled down her face from a shallow cut on her brow, she saw Kíli standing next to her with a concerned frown on his face.

"I am dying, then," she said faintly. "Truly the Valar are kind to let me look upon the face of my beloved one last time before I pass beyond this mortal plane."

"You're not dying!" her hallucination of Kíli yelped. 

"Well, the fact that you are here tends to argue against that." Carefully, she retrieved her dagger from the corpse and wiped it off before sheathing it. "Traditionally speaking, hallucinations of lost loved ones only appear to people who are on the brink of death."

Tauriel sat back on her heels, holding her side and feeling the blood soak her fingers. She needed to bind the wound but right now even standing up seemed like an immense task. Her vision wavered and she felt herself sway to the side.

"Tauriel. Tauriel! You must get up." Her hallucinatory Kíli tried grabbing her shoulders but his hands went right through her. " _Gimlinh_ , please. Please get up."

"Fire and flood," she swore. "You know how poorly I fare at saying no to you when you look at me like that. All right, _meleth nín_ , I am moving."

All throughout the slow, limping journey, her hallucinatory Kíli kept pace with her, encouraging her to keep moving when she faltered. He disappeared after she found an easily defensible hiding place down a tiny side tunnel, flickering out of existence as abruptly as he had arrived.

"Goodbye, my love," Tauriel whispered. Her heart clenched, but she brushed the tears from her cheeks and determinedly went back to the task of cleaning and binding her wounds. 

She assumed that would be the last she would see of her hallucinatory Kíli. She was wrong.

For the next several days as she continued through the tunnels, Kíli would flicker into existence at seemingly random intervals. She assumed that he was a hallucination brought on by the endless dark claustrophobia of the tunnels. There was nothing to see in the tunnels besides rocks and occasional patches of glowing fungus. No sky, no sun, no friendly voice except for her hallucinatory Kíli. She had never in her life been so alone.

The mountain seemed to press down on her and she began to fear that she would never find her way out. Figment of her imagination or not, Kíli kept her moving when all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep forever.

***

"Finally after weeks of fighting and wandering in the dark, I reached the outlet of a tunnel on the western slopes of the Misty Mountains. The sun had just risen over the mountains and light streamed down over the rocky slopes and the snow-covered valleys below. And I realized that I did not want to fall in battle anymore."

***

The bright sunlight was almost blinding after so long spent in darkness. Tauriel shielded her eyes from the glare as she looked down the slope of loose scree. The treeline began perhaps half a mile beyond the tunnel mouth. Below her opened up a vista of snow-covered meadows and thick stands of pine trees. In the distance, she could see a hint of open plains.

For the first time since word had come from the Dwarven camp that Kíli, Fíli, and Thorin had been returned to the stone, Tauriel felt her spirits lift.

She wished that Kíli were here to see this with her. No doubt he'd ask her why she was just standing here when she could be down there among the trees already, exploring this new land.

"Sometimes patience is a virtue," she told the hallucinatory Kíli who stood beside her, bouncing on his toes. Kíli made a face at her, indicating his opinion of patience. "All right, my love, I'm moving," she told him.

"Race you!" Kíli ran down the mountain ahead of her fearlessly, coat billowing in the wind. Smiling to herself, Tauriel followed him down the treacherous, rocky slope at a more reasonable pace.

Kíli stayed with her for much of the rest of the day, exclaiming over such mundane treasures as the bright-scaled trout that swam in the partly iced-over stream she followed down the side of the mountain.

She knew that the fact that she was continuing to see a hallucination of her dead love in broad daylight was not a good sign for her continued sanity. She was not entirely sure that she cared, however. Surely this harmless delusion was a preferable option to eternal grief.

Tauriel had been widowed less than two days after she and Kíli were married under the stars. If she took comfort in the delusion that her dead husband walked beside her, commenting on the color of the sky and the deer tracks next to the stream... well, what was the harm in that?

That night she made camp in a small hollow among a stand of pines. Her hallucinatory Kíli was quite perturbed that he could not share the fat, delicious trout she had cooked wrapped in wet leaves on a flat stone in the middle of the campfire.

"I didn't know that you could cook," Kíli said, sitting next to the campfire, leaning back on his hands comfortably with his legs stretched out toward the flames.

"What did you think I lived on when I was on patrol in Mirkwood? Nothing but lembas bread?"

"Well, yes. I mean, it wasn't like you could eat the squirrels. We tried and they were foul-tasting. Even Bombur couldn't keep a mouthful down."

She laughed at him. "Why would you try to eat a Mirkwood tree rat? No one eats those. Not even the giant spiders."

He smiled and shrugged. "Guess we could have done with a native guide. You could have shown us the safe way through the--"

With no warning at all, Kíli was gone. She knew by now that he would be back sooner or later, but it still made her heart miss a beat whenever he disappeared.

Tauriel finished eating the fish, but somehow it didn't taste nearly as delicious without her imaginary companion by her side.

***

"And? That was it? You just didn't _feel_ like...falling in battle...anymore?"

"Yes." Tauriel gave him the closed-mouth smile that he had noticed never reached her eyes. "Bilbo, Elf-Friend though you are, I am afraid there is much you do not yet understand about our ways."

He shrugged and chuckled a little, pretending to let the matter drop. Bilbo knew there was something important she was not telling him, but he was sure that he would find it out eventually. 

It never paid to underestimate the tenacity of a Hobbit when a secret was waiting to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> bavonursinh - fire-crowned lady  
> gimlinh - star-lady
> 
> Sindarin:  
> meleth nín - my love


	5. Tauriel of Imladris

After their conversation on the balcony, Bilbo and a subdued-looking Tauriel returned to the suite of rooms they had been given to use during their visit. The rooms were beautiful, of course, as everything in Rivendell was; high-ceilinged, with broad windows overlooking one of the many waterfalls of the valley. Bilbo appreciated the view, but the high ceilings made him feel a little uncomfortable--nothing like the low, rounded ceilings of home.

He had expected himself to sleep soundly after their full day of travel, the fight against the Orcs, and the delicious dinner they had eaten with Lord Elrond. However, returning to Rivendell seemed to have reawakened the memories of the time he had spent here with the Company. Memories of Thorin, if he was going to be honest about it.

Bilbo laid awake long into the night, thinking about the longing in Thorin's voice when he talked about his homeland and how sad and noble he'd looked in the moonlight. 

Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep and dreamed that he was back in the empty, desolate halls of Erebor. He could hear Thorin singing in the distance, something low and melancholy. Bilbo searched the deserted city for what felt like hours, but could not found him. He awoke feeling almost more tired than when he had gone to sleep.

After breakfast they met with Lord Elrond in his study, a large, well-appointed room with a collection of heavy, leather-bound books on elaborately carved bookshelves. Bilbo's fingers fairly itched with the urge to thumb through them.

Seated behind a large, ornately-carved desk in front of an expanse of tall windows, the Elven lord stood to greet them. " _Mae g'ovannen_. Come, take a seat."

He motioned them to a small grouping of comfortable-looking chairs by an unlit fireplace. Though the surrounding countryside was still suffering through a wet and chilly spring, Bilbo had noticed that the air of Rivendell was always more temperate than the land around it.

"My lord, your have my thanks for your kindness and hospitality," Tauriel said.

"Indeed! Your hospitality is the stuff of legend," Bilbo said as he made his usual ungainly hop and wriggle in order to sit on the Elf-sized chair. After a large breakfast (almost large enough to be Hobbit-sized) and a steaming pot of tea, he was feeling almost entirely recovered from his uneasy night's sleep. Nothing that a rasher of bacon wouldn't fix, as his Grandmother Baggins used to say.

"It is my pleasure as a host, particularly for guests so amenable," Elrond said with a slight smile.

Bilbo tried not to snort at the subtle dig at the Company's behavior at Rivendell the last time. He loved the Company and felt towards a few of them as if they were the brothers he had never had, but honestly. Burning the furniture, for shame!

"I will not dance around the point of your visit. Considering your condition, I would assume that the reason you have come to Imladris is to ask me to intercede on your behalf with King Thranduil." He addressed all this to Tauriel, who looked politely baffled.

"It is true that King Thranduil has banished me from the Forest Realm, but I am not quite sure what that has to do with my...condition."

"I understand the political situation in Mirkwood is complex," Lord Elrond said. "However, politics are not a good enough reason to tear a couple apart, particularly when there is a child on the way."

Tauriel and Bilbo exchanged equally confused looks. With a sudden burst of understanding, Bilbo blurted, "Oh! You think that Prince Legolas is the father!"

Lord Elrond's thin eyebrows quirked. "I take it then that he is not the father of your child?"

"No!" Tauriel exclaimed, sounding appalled. "I was raised with Legolas. He is like a brother to me." She paused a moment and then added, "Though even with King Thranduil’s opposition to the idea, that might have been a slightly _less_ complicated political situation than the one we currently face."

"Who then, if I may ask, is the father?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Two nights before the great battle by the gates of Erebor, Prince Kíli of Erebor and I were wed under the stars in the manner of my people."

Lord Elrond was too experienced a politician for more than a brief expression of surprise to cross his face. "Indeed. Then your child is the result of the union of Elf and Dwarf."

"Yes." Tauriel's facade of calmness cracked for a moment, revealing the fear that Bilbo knew gnawed at her heart. "My lord, you are counted as the wisest and most learned of Elves still remaining in Middle Earth. Have you ever heard of a child of Elven and Dwarven heritage?"

"I have not."

Her shoulders slumped. "That is as I had feared."

"But that does not mean that such a thing has never occurred. Though now the relationship between our peoples is one of mutual animosity and mistrust, once Elves and Dwarves were close friends and trading partners. I can scarce believe that in all our thousands of years of co-existence, you and Prince Kíli were the very first to find an individual of the other race attractive." Elrond’s barely-there smile teased at the edges of his lips. "Though certainly it helps that you were not greatly different in stature."

"I have always been short, even for a Silvan Elf," she admitted, shrugging ruefully. "And Kíli was very tall for a Dwarf."

Elrond smiled briefly and then sobered again. "The information is likely hidden and referred to only in oblique ways, but I am confident that if it exists anywhere within the library of Imladris, my librarian, Erestor can find it out."

"I thank you most heartily for your kindness, my lord. You have no obligation to help an exiled former Guard Captain of another realm." Tauriel paused, biting her lip. "I would ask one more favor, Lord Elrond...that you keep in closest confidence the reason for this search. For now, at least, I wish for the true parentage of my child to remain unknown."

"Of course, if that is what you wish. Might I know the reason?"

"There are many who would consider the child I carry to be an abomination."

"Such words will not be spoken in my halls. The blood of Beren and Tuor runs through my veins and I am proud to call myself one of the Peredhil," Lord Elrond said with his dark eyes narrowed fiercely. "Your child is also Peredhel, no matter that the other half of the child's heritage is Dwarf rather than Man. Imladris will be as a sanctuary for you and your child." 

"I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, my lord. However, I must point out that you cannot control what people outside of Imladris will think."

"That is unfortunately true, but I will extend to you my protection if you will allow it. This can be accomplished while keeping the parentage of your child secret," he added, correctly reading the hesitation in her face. "Is that acceptable?"

"My lord, of course it is, but you do not need to put yourself out for my sake."

"Need to? Perhaps not, but you will find that I very rarely do things that I do not wish to." Lord Elrond stood, holding out a hand for Tauriel. Hesitantly, she stood and took it in her own. "Lindir," he said without appreciably raising his voice.

His assistant immediately opened a door that was almost invisible, tucked unobtrusively as it was in a corner of the room. "Yes, my lord?"

"Transcribe a proclamation. From this day forth, Tauriel, formerly of Mirkwood, is to be known to all as Tauriel of Imladris. She and all of her descendants will be under the protection of the Lord of Imladris for as long as these halls shall stand."

Lindir’s eyebrows shot up but he dutifully wrote down Lord Elrond’s words without comment. "Shall I post the proclamation in the Hall of Fire, my lord?"

"Yes, and be sure to spread the word verbally to the most notorious gossips you can think of, from the cooks to the harpists."

Lindir nodded without cracking a smile. "Very good, my lord." He bowed and departed.

"Lindir is utterly circumspect, but having been instructed to spread the news I can assure you he will make sure that the entire valley knows that Tauriel is favored by me before the day is out." Elrond looked satisfied.

"Leaking the news that you want spread to notorious gossips? Why, that is positively Hobbitish of you," Bilbo said before realizing that an Elf lord might not consider that a compliment.

"Indeed? Then Hobbits, my dear Master Baggins, are positively Elvish in their strategic use of rumor and word of mouth," Elrond said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bilbo sputtered, not quite sure what to make of that.

"My lord, this is beyond anything I could have hoped for. I cannot thank you enough." Tauriel's voice was rough with emotion. "I owe you--"

"You do not owe me anything. This was the right thing to do and I will hear nothing of debts."

She inclined her head gravely. "I do not wish to bring trouble to your doorstep, though, my lord."

"Trouble has come to my door in many guises over the years, and I have met its challenge every time. Come then, I am sure that you thought to avail yourself of the healing arts while you were here. I will, if it is acceptable to you, examine you myself."

"I would be honored."

"I shall just sit this one out, if it’s all the same to you," Bilbo said hastily when Elrond looked at him inquiringly. "Not really my bailiwick, baby matters. Unless you have need of me of course, Tauriel."

She looked amused. "I shall seek you out later, _mellon nín_ , once the "baby matters" have been seen to."

Left alone in Elrond’s study, Bilbo did not waste a moment before examining those fascinating bookshelves.

He had been reading for a mere moment or two (possibly longer) when the librarian Erestor, a severe-looking Elf in dark robes, found him sitting on the study floor and informed him that he could have his own study carrel in the library, if he was as quiet and studious there as he had been in the study. 

Slightly embarrassed at being found reading where he hadn’t, strictly speaking, been told he could, Bilbo obediently trailed the librarian to the library. There he stood in amazement, staring around with mouth inelegantly open, at all of the _books_. There must have been thousands of them. He could, without exaggeration, happily live for the rest of his life in this library.

With breaks for meals, of course. Bilbo might be in danger of becoming a mad bibliophile on a reading rampage through one of the greatest libraries on Middle Earth, but he was still a _Hobbit_ , after all. One could not continue to read if one became faint with hunger.

Erestor nodded quite seriously and agreed with him on all points. Sensible fellow. Bilbo proceeded to dive headfirst (only a slight exaggeration) into the piles of books.

"Bilbo," Tauriel said quietly. He had the feeling she might have been standing at his elbow for more than a few minutes.

"My dear, how did the consultation go?" he asked without thinking to moderate his tone. There was an admonishing cough from the direction of Erestor's desk. Much more quietly, Bilbo added, "Let us step out onto the terrace."

Once they were safely ensconced on the wide expanse of sun-drenched marble and carefully tended greenery, he repeated, "How did the consultation go?"

"The baby is quite healthy, Lord Elrond says." She rested a hand on her stomach absently as she spoke. "As far as he can determine, the development of the baby is about where it should be for an Elf. We have no idea, of course, how that compares to a Dwarven pregnancy, but he believes that is not a concern as long as it is developing in line with what he would expect of an Elven pregnancy."

"This is wonderful news!" he exclaimed, as exuberant as any Hobbit at the prospect of a new baby in the family.

She hesitantly returned his smile, her smile widening in response to his excitement. "It is, isn’t it? This entire journey to Imladris, I was so terribly afraid he would tell me that the baby wasn’t...viable. But it is. The baby is perfectly healthy." Her voice broke and tears suddenly overflowed her eyes. Tauriel made a horrified noise, wiping away her tears as quickly as she could.

"What’s wrong, _mellon nín_?" He pronounced the Elvish words carefully and was rewarded with a teary smile.

"I do not know why I am weeping...but that is a lie. I do know." Her hands twisted together tightly. "How I wish that Kíli were here. All I can I think about is how he smiled when he heard—I mean, how he _would have_ smiled if he had heard the news."

Her odd slip of the tongue made Bilbo feel bold enough to finally ask a question he had been mulling for quite some time. "Tauriel, when did you first realize that you were pregnant?"

"Not until I had almost crossed the Ettenmoors. I didn't believe it at first--I thought that I must be imagining things. I still almost cannot believe that it is possible, despite all of Lord Elrond’s assurances."

***

The dawn sun had barely peeked through the sort of dense cloud cover that promised at least a day of snowfall if not more. She had been lucky enough to find a small cave the night before which was entirely uninhabited and ventilated well enough that she could safely light a fire within it. 

Now she looked out of the cave into the sullen daylight and weighed the merits of a day without forward progress versus a day spent traveling through heavy snow. She had secure, dry shelter here and mending to do, including a strap on her pack, so all in all she felt it was worth it to stay.

"Bit gloomy, isn't it?" Kíli said after she had been working on the loose strap for about a quarter of an hour.

She had, for the most part, stopped being surprised by his spontaneous appearances. He never acted as if it was unusual. He didn't appear to know that he was dead, or even be particularly curious about how he'd come to be like this. He seemed to function under the sort of logic that one would have in a dream, where anything that happened was utterly normal and expected, no matter how strange it seemed in the waking world.

"It is dry and safe, so I do not know that I care that much about the ambiance."

He moved to the mouth of the cave, peering out into the murky twilight day. "Where are we, anyway? This looks even drearier than Dunland."

Tauriel bit through a thread, examining her work with satisfaction. It would take this strap a long time to work loose again. "I believe I'm most of the way across the Ettenmoors."

He looked alarmed. "The Ettenmoors? Tauriel, there are Trolls in this land."

"I know. I sighted their spoor yesterday evening. They are slow and stupid. Easy enough to avoid."

He sighed, moving back to the tiny campfire to sit next to her. "I just worry about you, out here with no one to guard your back."

It seemed a little odd that a figment of her imagination worried more about her safety than she herself did. Kíli always had been the protective sort though, so she guessed it made sense that her imagined version of him would act the same way. "I will be fine, _meleth nín_."

He smiled at her. "I remember the first time you called me that, my love."

"You should, considering the circumstances."

"I still can't believe that all you have to do to get married is to say "I love you" under the light of the stars. Do Elves ever end up accidentally getting married?"

"No, of course not. Don't be silly." She shook her head at him fondly. "And it is not just saying "I love you" under the stars. You also have to tell your closest family members that you are married."

"I thought Legolas was going to expire immediately from the shock of it. I’m disappointed that he didn’t faint, at least."

"Do not be cruel. He worries about me. We were raised together."

"He’s in love with you."

"He is not. Legolas is like a brother to me." After a long pause punctuated only by the sound of the rising wind whistling past the cave entrance, she sighed and added, "He's probably frantic with worry about me, wandering Middle Earth on my own."

"You’re not on your own. You have me. I mean, not that I can really fight when I can't touch anything." He sounded as if he were frustrated by that, but as always his attitude towards his incorporeal status was bafflingly matter of fact. 

She smiled a little painfully. "I do not think the imaginary companionship of my dead husband would reassure Legolas much as to my safety." She had never said it out loud before--that he was dead. The words dropped from her mouth like stones.

He stared at her. "What? I'm not dead! I'm just...not entirely here."

"You are either a ghost or a figment of my imagination. Either way, you are no longer among the living."

"No. I'm not dead," he repeated, shaking his head stubbornly. 

"Your kinsmen told us that you were, Kíli. Why would they lie?"

"Our kinsmen? Which ones? And what did they say, exactly?" 

"What does it matter? It will not make you any less dead." Her heart felt near to cracking in two. "If you wish to prove that you are real, then tell me something I do not already know."

"Like what?"

"It does not matter. Anything that a figment of my imagination would not already know."

"But anything I tell you about my life you would say that you imagined me saying, if I'm only a figment," he pointed out. "I'll tell you something about _you_ that you don't already know." Kíli seemed sharper somehow today. More present, more aware of what was happening. 

"Such as?"

"Your hair is coming in white where your scar hits your hairline."

She shook her head. "I already knew that. I saw my reflection in my daggers while I was polishing them the other day."

"All right, then, your waist is getting thicker." He winced and smacked his hand soundlessly against his head. "Idiot. That's one of the things Fíli said I'm never supposed to mention to a lady."

She snorted. "Your brother fancies himself a ladies man." Tauriel bit her lip and decided to ignore her slip of the tongue, since he hadn't reacted to it in any way. It was so easy, when talking to Kíli, to forget that his brother was also dead.

"But I lived on short rations for weeks in the Orc tunnels. If anything, I should be thinner than usual. Why would my waist be--oh." She shook her head. "No, that would be impossible."

"What? Tauriel, what is it?"

She could not answer yet. The thought was ridiculous and impossible, but she needed to be sure. 

She stretched out on the floor of the cave, using her empty pack for a pillow. Resting her hands on her lower abdomen, she closed her eyes to concentrate, following the remembered instructions of the healer who had instructed all novice members of the Guard in the basics of channeling healing power. _Before you can heal an injury, you must become intimately familiar with the flow of energies in a healthy, uninjured body_ , the old healer had said before leading them in a deep scan of their own bodies. 

She felt the energies flowing from her head to her chest and flowing from there to pool at her navel. She followed a pulsing, bright line of energy from her navel to her womb. There she found something entirely unexpected.

Her eyes snapped open. "Blessed Lady of the Flowers," she whispered, staring up at the shadowy roof of the cave but barely seeing it. She felt a great shock race through her, like the echo of a nearby lightning strike.

"Tauriel? My love, what troubles you?" Kíli's upside-down face appeared in her field of vision as he leaned over her. Even at this angle, she could clearly see his worry and distress.

Feeling like the world was spinning around her, she considered lying on the ground for a few more minutes. Kíli was beginning to make increasingly worried-looking faces, though, so she gathered her thoughts together and sat up. Standing up seemed too difficult to contemplate at the moment.

" _Gimlinh_?" His eyes were very wide as he knelt before her.

In that moment, she could not believe that he was dead or a mere figment of her imagination. Just for a moment, she felt as if Kíli truly was there with her. Resting her hands on her still-flat (though slightly thicker) stomach, she took a deep breath and said, "I am with child."

His mouth dropped open. Then a wide, beaming smile of pure happiness spread across his face. "We're going to have a baby?"

"Yes. We are." She reached out a hand to touch him, forgetting that her hand would go right through him. She felt a shock of cold desolation at the reminder that as real as he seemed to her at that moment, Kíli was dead and all she spoke to was a shadow.

"Our baby." He seemed not to have noticed her shift in mood, still smiling broadly at her. "What do you want to name her? Him? Can you tell?" He seemed more alive than ever, so it came as a shock when she began to see the wall of the cave through him. He was fading.

" _Meleth nín_. You are fading away."

"What?" He blinked in confusion, staring down at his hands as they slowly faded from sight. This was the first time he had faded from sight like this--usually, he was there and then gone in the next moment. "No! Tauriel!"

"Kíli!" She put her hands over her mouth as he began to fade more and more quickly.

He appeared to be shouting, but she could barely hear his voice. "What did they say when you heard that I was dead? What exactly?"

"They said that you had been returned to the stone, along with your brother and your uncle."

He was almost invisible now and she strained to hear his faint voice. " _\--iel! That doesn't--!_ " His voice faded out for a moment, though she could still see his mouth moving soundlessly. " _\--dead!_ "

His form faded away entirely. 

It felt more final, somehow, than any of the other times that he had disappeared. Tauriel drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face so that she would not have to admit, even if only to herself, that she was crying like a broken-hearted child.

***

"--that doesn't mean that I'm dead!" Kíli's own shouting startled him awake.

His voice echoed mockingly in the emptiness. Only a moment ago he had been with Tauriel, his beloved, his lady of fire and starlight. The mother of his child. 

Now there was nothing but bare stone walls, solitude, and silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> gimlinh - star-lady 
> 
> Sindarin:  
> mae g'ovannen - you are well met  
> meleth nín - my love  
> mellon nín - my friend  
> Peredhil - plural of Peredhel, Half-Elven


	6. It Was Only a Dream...Wasn't It?

Kíli was dreaming.

In his dream, he and Tauriel were exploring the Orc tunnels in the Misty Mountains. Sometimes she couldn't see him, and he could never actually touch anything, but it was a dream, wasn't it? Everything makes sense in a dream.

He dreamed that he walked beside Tauriel down a mountainside into a wild, uninhabited land. He had a vague sense of disquiet, as if there were something he should remember, but it was washed away by the strange calmness of the dream.

He faded away into the darkness now and then, but every time he came back to Tauriel, drawn to her by the bright golden cord that stretched between them. She smiled whenever she saw him, but he could tell that under the smile she was terribly sad. In the logic of the dream he couldn't figure out why she would be sad, if they were together.

He had no firm sense of the passage of time but sometimes he felt like he was almost on the verge of waking up. Everything seemed sharper and the world felt less dream-like, even though clearly it had to be a dream because he still couldn't touch anything. He wanted to hold Tauriel in his arms and kiss the sadness from her lips, but he couldn't. 

Sometimes in his dream she was asleep, curled into a tight ball. He had always heard that Elves never slept, but Tauriel had slept in his arms when they had lain together during the two nights before the Battle. Just another myth, he guessed.

Many things about the dream didn't make sense but there was one question that niggled at his mind:

If he was dreaming, why couldn't he remember going to sleep?

He sometimes almost remembered the Battle, the clash of weapons, the screams and shouts of the warriors. That memory led to things he didn't want to remember so he tried to stop thinking about it. ( _Uncle lying on the ground looking like something broken, the malicious sneer of the Pale Orc as it swung its mace and sent Fíli flying, Kíli holding his ground even though his left arm hung useless at his side. The flash of red hair in his peripheral vision--no, no, Tauriel could not be there. She was supposed to be safe up on the ridge with the rest of the Mirkwood archers, not down here in the thick of battle--_ )

***

Kíli woke up struggling and crying out Tauriel's name. A Dwarf he didn't recognize pushed him back down to lie flat. Kíli tried to resist but his muscles felt terribly weak.

Judging by his braids the unfamiliar Dwarf was a healer. Kíli didn't recognize him, but for some reason he felt like he'd seen him before.

"Don't struggle," the healer said absently. "You'll only rip your stitches. Time for another dose of the elixir. I think we'll try the new formulation this time."

Kíli's mouth felt dry as dust and his voice sounded weak and thready as he demanded, "What? Who are you? Where is my brother? Where is Tauriel?"

He was so weak that he was unable to struggle away from the healer's hands as he efficiently pried open Kíli's mouth and poured liquid from a small phial into it. Kíli tried not to swallow but the healer held his mouth closed until eventually he had to. Immediately a cool, soothing sensation washed through him and his whole body relaxed. 

The last thing he saw before he fell back into dreams was the healer's satisfied-looking smile.

***

Kíli was dreaming again. He dreamed that Tauriel was camped inside a cave while snow spat down from the sky outside. He felt very awake and alert, which was a strange sensation to have within a dream. Tauriel seemed sad again, so he tried to distract her with idle talk and teasing about Legolas.

Then she said something that shocked him to the core: that he was dead.

Kíli's entire being rebelled against that idea. If he were dead, he would be in the Halls with his ancestors. He didn't _feel_ as if he were dead, though in all honesty he was beginning to have trouble figuring out _what_ he was. This didn't feel like a dream anymore.

Then Tauriel said the four words that turned his entire world upside down and filled him near to bursting with joy. She was with child. Their baby.

The news made him feel more awake, more present, than he had felt since his dreaming began. He could see his beloved so clearly: the scar along the side of her face that proclaimed her bravery and fierceness in battle; the long sweep of her beautiful red hair, like a waterfall of fire; the tenderness with which she held a hand out to him.

Then her eyes widened in horror. " _Meleth nín_. You are fading away."

From his perspective, it was she who was beginning to fade from his sight. He began to see bare stone walls right through her, not the walls of the cave either but solid Dwarven stonework. Something she had said earlier came back to him. What exactly had the Dwarves who were supposedly his kin said to make her believe that he was dead?

He could barely hear her voice. "They said that you had been returned to the stone, along with your brother--" Her voice faded out.

Kíli felt shock and happiness race through him. Returned to the stone didn't mean dead, it meant that they had been so grievously wounded that his kin had taken them to the sacred stone chambers that lay at the heart of any Dwarf-carved mountain and asked Mahal to intervene. He was dreaming, therefore Mahal must have intervened--therefore he wasn't dead.

"--that doesn't mean that I'm dead!" Kíli's own shouting startled him awake.

His voice echoed mockingly in the emptiness. Only a moment ago he had been with Tauriel, his beloved, his lady of fire and starlight. The mother of his child. 

Now there was nothing but bare stone walls, solitude, and silence.

A healing room, he guessed. It would make sense. He'd been injured, hadn't he?

He still felt so terribly weak that merely sitting up took all of his strength. He sat on the edge of his cot while he tried to muster the strength to stand.

He noticed that he bore new scars on his left arm, great jagged marks. He faintly remembered the Pale Orc's mace smashing into his arm, like something seen in a dream (except that the dreams he'd had of Tauriel were far more vivid.) He could flex his fingers and make a fist, which was reassuring since his immediate worry had been that he would be unable to fire a bow again. 

The pitted scar on his thigh where the Morgul arrow had struck him was pale and silvery, but Tauriel had healed that wound with her Elf magic. The scars from the battle of Erebor were still red, but they appeared as well-healed as if it had been months since he'd been injured. How long had it been since the battle? Where was Fíli? Was Tauriel really wandering alone in the Ettenmoors as he had dreamed?

If it had been a dream at all, which he was beginning to doubt. The last few minutes with her had seemed so real. He could not believe it had only been a dream, though he had no idea what other explanation there could be.

She was real, though. He knew it. And so was their baby. A little girl with Tauriel's beautiful red hair, and fine, soft whiskers along the side of her jaw just like his mam. Or maybe a little boy with wild brown hair and pointy ears.

Kíli shook his head, realizing he'd been completely lost in a daydream. He made himself get up and shuffle to the door. The sooner he could get out of here and find Fíli, the sooner they could go find Tauriel together.

The door was locked from the other side.

Kíli tugged at it, not understanding at first. Why would the door be locked if this was a healing room? He tried pounding on it and yelling. "Oi! Open this door! What do you think you're about, locking me in like this?"

There was no sound from outside the room, not even a hint of someone stirring to check on him.

Kíli leaned his back against the door, sliding down it to sit on the floor. The bare stone walls and locked door were adding up to something he didn't care for at all. This wasn't a healing room, it was a cell. He was a prisoner.

Were Fíli and Uncle Thorin prisoners too? He immediately felt guilty for not thinking of Thorin earlier. Had their uncle even survived the battle? Kíli himself had been badly injured. He had seen Fíli thrown halfway across the battlefield with one swing of Azog the Defiler's mace and not get up from it. Fíli might just have been knocked out, but Thorin bore the kind of wounds that many warriors didn't walk away from. Maybe their uncle could have survived, if their kin had returned him to the stone in time for Mahal's blessing to save him. Kíli hoped so.

Fíli had to be all right though. Kíli couldn't contemplate a world where he survived while his brother died. It wasn't possible, he told himself. Fíli was just fine.

He roused himself to investigate the room as soon as he had the energy to move again. The cell was entirely empty except for a pallet on a bed-sized platform that was carved right out of the stone. There was a drain in the floor for doing the necessary. Nothing he could attack someone with--other than by throwing the pallet at them, and that would be laughable unless he happened to be imprisoned by children.

The door was also solid stone except for an oblong viewing slot at eye-height, currently covered from the other side. The hinges were on the other side of the door. No way to pry the hinges open, and the door opening outward meant that he couldn't hide behind the door to attack anyone. No help there.

Kíli tried shouting again. He kept it up until his voice was hoarse, but no one came.

***

Eventually someone did come, but it didn't really answer his questions so much as leave him with a whole slew of new questions. His visitors, if you could call them that, were three Dwarves that he didn't recognize. Two of them were clearly guards, wearing armor and waiting at the ready by the door.

The other seemed to be a healer, judging by his braids. He seemed strangely familiar. Had Kíli seen him somewhere before?

Refusing to answer any of Kíli's questions, the healer called one of the guards over to stand over Kíli threateningly until he allowed the healer to examine him. The healer seemed inordinately interested in Kíli's eyes and how quickly they reacted to light and asked him questions about any strange dreams he might have been having.

There was no way he was telling the evil healer about his real-seeming dreams of Tauriel.

The healer pursed his lips, seeming disappointed by Kíli's lack of response. "Guardsman, make him more cooperative."

Remembering Dwalin's lessons in resisting torture, Kíli held out long enough against the guard's fists to make it look good before he started talking. He told the healer that he had dreamed of wandering Middle Earth, giving him details drawn from Tauriel's travels, though of course he did not mention her presence in his dreams.

The healer seemed satisfied at last, making a thoughtful noise and tapping his finger against his chin. "Interesting, though that's not exactly the effect I was hoping for. Guardsman, hold him down. I need to give our guest a dose of the newest elixir."

Kíli struggled, but he was too weak to resist the phial of liquid that the healer poured down his throat. He spared a hope that he would see Tauriel again in his dreams as the soft arms of unconsciousness reached for him once more.

***

He dreamed of Tauriel again.

This time, she could not see him or hear him, no matter how often he stood directly in front of her and pleaded for her to see him. He followed her across the breadth of Middle Earth, it seemed. She camped for a time inside a warren of ancient ruins that Kíli did not care for at all--something about them made him feel uneasy. Traveling on, she passed the shore of a lake and entered a hilly country that Kíli actually recognized. These were the Hills of Evendim. She was near the Blue Mountains.

Was she looking for his mother? How would Tauriel even know how to find her? Kíli was certain he'd never told her anything more specific than that his mam lived in Ered Luin. That narrowed it down to a mountain range. Kíli felt the urge to smack himself in the forehead. He'd never even told her if it was the northern or southern Ered Luin.

Tauriel was not heading along the familiar trails to the northern Ered Luin, though, or even south to the less populated part of the range. She instead followed the trails to the sea where the Elven city of ship-builders stood on the shore of the Gulf of Lune. Kíli had never been a particularly good student but even he knew that Elves went to the Grey Havens for one thing: to sail beyond the edge of the world to their Blessed Lands. And he was almost certain that none of them ever returned.

Tauriel bypassed the city and hiked along the shore to a spot where a cliff gave a wide view of the sea. There she sat on the winter-browned turf, the sea wind whipping her long red hair behind her like a flag.

"Don't go, my love," he pleaded, kneeling beside her. "Please, don't go where I can't follow you." 

Her hand resting on the increasingly visible curve of her stomach, Tauriel stared into the distance over the grey and restless sea. "I thought that I would feel it calling me," she said. 

Kíli's heart leaped in hope. "Tauriel? Tauriel, can you hear me?" 

She spoke right over his words, dashing his hopes. "They say that the Sindar feel the call of the sea even though their people never went to Valinor. I thought that perhaps if I saw the sea I would feel it too, even though I am a mere Silvan Elf, and then I would know that the Valar would welcome both of us to Valinor. 

"But there is nothing. I do not feel the call. The sea is just cold, endless water and we are not wanted in the Undying Lands. There is no place for us there." 

She bent her head, rubbing the curve of her stomach. Kíli longed to put his hand on hers and feel their child under their joined hands.

There was silence for a long few minutes except for the distant rhythm of the surf and the calling of seagulls. 

"Part of me is relieved, _pîn elloth_ ," Tauriel whispered. Her eyes closed and she raised her face, tears trailing down her cheeks only to be blown away by the wind. "If we went to Valinor, we would never see your _ada_ again. I have to believe that somehow his spirit lingers on, tied to this world. Sometimes I think that I can feel his spirit watching us. I only wish that I could see him and hear his voice again."

"I am here, _gimlinh_ , I am." Kíli traced his hand along the side of her face just a fraction of an inch away, because he knew that if he touched her his hand would go right through her.

"What am I to do if I cannot to sail to the Undying Lands?" Tauriel's voice broke. "I cannot do this entirely on my own. I cannot ever return home again, but neither can I go to Kíli's people."

"Why not?" he demanded, feeling offended.

"I do not know what to do, little one. You are a child of two worlds, the forest and the mountain, but I fear you will be welcome in neither."

"My mam would welcome you! And you're so close to Ered Luin right now, you could get there in a week or so. Ugh! Why does it have to be _now_ that you can't hear me?" He remembered the evil healer with his talk of trying "the newest elixir." Was this what the potion had done, sent Kíli's spirit to his beloved but ensured that she could not hear or see him? If the elixir was meant as torture, it was entirely successful. 

"Bilbo!" Tauriel exclaimed. Kíli actually found himself looking around for the Hobbit before realizing with a sense of chagrin that Tauriel had just been talking to herself.

"Brave, kind Bilbo Baggins. If there is anyone in Middle Earth who would help me, it is he." Tauriel stood, looking more hopeful than Kíli had seen her since...he couldn't remember exactly how long it had been. She picked up her pack and cloak, both looking much more worn than they had when he'd first seen her in the Orc tunnels, and turned to go. 

Tauriel paused for a moment, looking out to sea. "Whatever reason the Valar have for not calling me to Valinor, I have to believe that it does not mean that they have turned their backs on us. You are part of the Song too, _pîn elloth_ , unexpected though you are." Taking a deep breath, she turned her face from the sea and determinedly started walking to the East.

Halfway expecting it to grab Tauriel and carry her away to where he could not follow, Kíli gave the sea a suspicious glance before following his beloved down the path away from the shore.

***

Kíli woke up. 

It was dark in the cell other than the faint glow of light under the door from the hallway. He'd been drifting in the dark for a while, he thought, deep in natural sleep instead of the forced sleep caused by the healer's elixir. Something had startled him awake.

The light from under the door dimmed as if someone were standing outside his cell door. Kíli slipped out of bed as quietly as he could manage and padded softly to the door. The slot at eye-level slid open, revealing the unusual hairstyle of his visitor.

They spoke simultaneously.

"Kíli?"

"Nori?"

"Mahal's hammer, am I relieved to see you," Nori breathed. 

"Where is my brother? What's going on? Where am I?" Kíli demanded.

"Keep your voice down, we don't have much time as it is. We don't know where Fíli is, or Thorin either. Honestly, we don't even know if they're alive. We were only able to find you because Ori noticed a discrepancy in the ledgers--" He glanced away, alert as a stretched wire, and then relaxed minutely and met Kíli's eyes again. "There was a lot more gold being spent by the healers than there should have been, and for some very unusual ingredients too."

"But where am I?"

 

"Erebor. The Healers' Halls. Dáin brought in some shady healer from the Iron Hills to run the place and threw Oin out."

"Get me out of here!"

Nori shook his head. "Wish I could, but I've got about two more minutes, give or take, before a guard comes by again. They've got you under heavy security and even I was barely able to get in."

Kíli felt his spirits plummet. "I must escape from this prison. My lady needs me."

"Your lady?" Nori squinted at him. "Oh, the Elf chit. Haven't seen her since the battle. She disappeared as soon as the healers took you into the mountain. Honestly, can't say I think much of her for running off when you were so badly wounded."

"You don't understand, Tauriel thought I was dead. She's an Elf--she had no idea what "returned to the stone" meant."

Nori's braided eyebrows rose. "Oh, that does put a different shine to the blade. Anyhow, we haven't found a way to free you yet and Dáin has everyone believing that you and your brother and King Thorin are dead."

"What? How?"

"His healers took you away to return you to the stone and not three hours later they announced you were all dead. Dáin is calling himself King of Erebor now." Nori spat on the floor. "We have a plan, though. Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin are being watched closely, but no one pays attention to the commoners like me and my brothers or Bofur and his kin."

"Watched? By who?"

"Dáin's men. They're all over the city. Listen, I don't have time to tell you everything that's been going on but believe me it's not good. Me and Bofur are going to pretend we're going out with a trade caravan to Ered Luin to fetch our kin who are still there." He glanced from side to side uneasily before saying in a barely audible voice, "And then we're going to find your mother Princess Dís and bring her back here."

"Mam? Why? Wouldn't it be dangerous for her to come to Erebor if Dáin is in charge?"

"According to Balin, the only reason Dáin is in charge here is that your mother took herself out of the line of succession so Thorin could make Fíli his direct heir. She has a much better claim to the throne of Erebor than that jumped up gravel miner. There are enough loyal Dwarves in Erebor that they'll oust Dáin in favor of Princess Dís." Nori's head jerked up. "Guard's coming, I need to go. Just be patient. We'll get you out of here, I swear."

"Nori, wait! You must stop by Bilbo's house on your way--" The eye-slot slid shut before he could finish his sentence. Nori was gone.

Kíli made a frustrated noise and banged his head lightly against the door before sliding down it to sit on the cold floor again. 

He had to believe that Nori and Bofur would visit Bilbo's house on the way to Ered Luin and they would find Tauriel at Bag End and tell her that Kíli was alive. Then his mam would come to Erebor and get him out of this cell, and she'd rescue Fíli and Thorin too, because they weren't dead either. Then Kíli would go to the Shire and he would see Tauriel again, and he would hold her and their babe in his arms and never let them go.

Kíli rubbed his arm across his wet eyes. Everything would be _just fine_.

He had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> gimlinh - star-lady 
> 
> Sindarin:  
> ada - daddy  
> meleth nín - my love  
> pîn elloth - little flower


	7. Dresses and Daggers

After their discussion on the terrace following Elrond's examination of Tauriel, she and Bilbo returned to their suite of rooms. Tauriel seemed caught up in unpleasant thoughts, curling up in a chair on their balcony and staring broodingly over the valley. 

Bilbo welcomed Lindir's arrival with a tray of food enthusiastically, both for the steaming pot of tea he spotted on the tray and for the excuse to stir Tauriel out of her pensive reverie. He directed Lindir to place the tray on the round table on their balcony, which seemed perfectly designed for a pleasant meal in the open air

"You do not need to serve us, Lindir," Tauriel protested. "Nor do we need these grand rooms. We are not royalty or ambassadors, just commoners like yourself. Bilbo and I can fend for ourselves."

Clasping his hands behind his back, Lindir answered, "You are honored guests of Lord Elrond, Lady Tauriel. It is my pleasure to make sure that you are comfortable."

"I am not a lady or anyone important, just a former Guard Captain."

Bilbo, seeing that this argument could go around in circles for hours, interrupted, "Lindir, please do sit down and eat with us."

"Oh, I couldn't." The secretary's eyes widened.

"Nonsense. Unless you have an urgent appointment elsewhere at this very moment, then I insist you join us. There is more than enough food for three."

"Even if one of the three is a Hobbit?" Tauriel asked with a gently teasing smile.

"Well, elevenses is always a lighter meal," Bilbo said judiciously. "Please join us, Lindir."

Though Lindir seemed stiff and reserved at first, Bilbo had extensive experience with putting his guests at ease. By the time they were finished with eating, Lindir had relaxed enough to smile with genuine amusement at Bilbo's tales of his youthful misadventures. The climax of the mystery of Goodwife Brown's disappearing pies surprised an actual chuckle out of him. 

As they lingered over the pot of tea, Lindir asked, "Lady Tauriel, may I speak to you about a matter of some delicacy?"

"If you agree to call me Tauriel and leave off the "Lady" nonsense, then yes, you may."

Lindir wavered. "It would be disrespectful of me not to refer to you properly in public."

"Even so, please call me Tauriel when we are in private."

"If that is your wish." Lindir nodded respectfully to her. "Tauriel, the ladies of the court have gathered together a collection of their maternity dresses and asked me to present them to you as a welcoming gift."

"Oh! Oh no, I couldn't possibly accept."

"The ladies felt that it was the least they could do after you were exiled so cruelly from your home. And the dress that you are wearing right now..." Lindir paused as if trying to figure out a way to describe it diplomatically. "I hope you will not consider this too presumptuous of me, but the dress was clearly not tailored properly to your figure."

"My dress?" Tauriel looked down blankly at the piece of clothing in question.

Bilbo hadn't given much thought to Tauriel's clothing. Though he himself was generally counted as a natty dresser with a flair for choosing colors, he tended to be oblivious to the clothing worn by others--well, to be more specific, the clothing worn by ladies. A stylish morning coat or well-fitted pair of trousers on a handsome gentlehobbit could certainly turn his head. (Or, for example, a dark blue velvet coat with fur trim worn by a handsome Dwarf prince.)

At any rate, it had never occurred to him to think too deeply on what Tauriel was wearing before they reached Rivendell other than to note that her dresses were an unattractive color. But now that Bilbo was paying attention, he could see that the dress she wore did look rather tent-like on her. It easily fit Tauriel's pregnant belly but drooped sadly everywhere else, clearly made for a much larger figure than hers. It looked like the sleeves had been chopped off at elbow-length with a knife and there was something that looked suspiciously like a bloodstain along the hem.

"I traded a brace of geese for two dresses in a village of Men once my old clothing stopped fitting correctly. The dresses cover me and they are warm, which is all I care about." Tauriel shrugged.

Lindir winced as if her comment had pained him. "The ladies of the Court would like to do whatever they can to help you in this difficult time. If you could at least try the dresses on...?" 

Lindir had very effective puppy-dog eyes, it turned out. Even Tauriel was not immune to them.

Shortly after Lindir departed, a young page delivered a package of carefully wrapped and folded dresses. Setting the package down on a low couch, Tauriel eyed it as warily as if it might hold a giant spider or two.

Bilbo tried to hide his smile. "Come now, they can't be that bad."

"I have seen the fashions the ladies of the court wear," Tauriel said darkly. "These dresses will be all flowing and...impractical."

"Perhaps there will be something like the green outfit you wore in Mirkwood. That was very pretty." The only reason he had actually noticed it was that before he'd left the Shire, he'd been looking for fabric in just that shade of green for a new waistcoat. This had been just before he'd run off to steal a treasure from right under the nose of a fire-breathing dragon, because apparently falling for a Dwarf prince made one prone to do terribly dangerous and ill-advised things in an effort to impress him. Bilbo never had gotten that green waistcoat made, come to think of it.

Tauriel started sorting through the package of dresses. Holding them up one by one, she shook her head and and piled them on the couch with a dissatisfied sigh.

"Are the dresses not to your liking?"

"There is no way that I could shoot a bow with sleeves like this." The dress she held up had long sleeves that widened to a graceful bell shape at the end. "This one with the train would simply tangle around my feet the moment I tried to do any footwork with my daggers. And I would need assistance to even put this one on," she said, scowling at a dress with tiny seed buttons down the back.

They silently contemplated the pile of beautiful dresses, Tauriel with scorn and Bilbo with concern.

It wasn't right that she should be dressed like a vagabond. People would talk, and while Bilbo did not care a fig whether the worthies of the Shire thought him odd, it bothered him to think of the Elves of Rivendell looking down their noses at Tauriel. He had the sense that they were already likely to look down on her simply because she was from Mirkwood--and the unknown parentage of her child certainly was not helping matters.

At Tauriel's request, the father of her child had remained a secret and so no one in Imladris besides Lord Elrond was aware that she was in fact the widow of a Prince.

Though Lindir himself was no gossip, one of his duties to Lord Elrond was to keep an eye on the rumor mill and he had agreed to keep Bilbo advised of whatever was said of Tauriel. According to Lindir, rumors regarding Tauriel were spreading among the Elves of Imladris like wildfire, and the leading theory was that she had married a Man who had been killed during the battle of Dale. The fact that Elrond Half-Elven had declared Tauriel and her descendants to be under his protection had only fuelled that speculation. 

Bilbo was sure that the gossips would have thought even less of Tauriel if the truth, that she had loved and married a Dwarf, had been known. He wished that he could pinch those gossips by the ear like his Grandmother Baggins would have, even if he had to stand on a step-stool to reach them. 

Bilbo shook himself out of his thoughts, forcing a cheerful tone as he said, "Well then, we will simply explain to Lindir why these dresses will not do. I am sure that someone among the ladies of the Court will be able to unearth an appropriate dress from her wardrobe."

"Thank you, _mellon nín_."

"Before I return them, are there none that will work at all?" He had noticed her looking longingly at the one green dress in the collection.

She bit her lip. "It is completely impractical, of course...but I do like the color of this one. Perhaps it will do."

Tauriel put on the one dress that she had deemed acceptable, a pale green gown with a scooped neckline and sleeves like wide ribbons of silk that trailed behind her, leaving the dress effectively sleeveless. "These will get in the way if I have to fight," she said, scowling at the trailing sleeves.

Bilbo sighed. "I suppose we will simply have to hope that Rivendell is not invaded by Orcs today."

Lindir appeared at their door soon after the rejected dresses were sent off with a page. He waved off Tauriel's apologies. "The borrowed dresses were only meant as a stopgap before we could have dresses made specifically for you. The Master of the Guild of Tailors will stop by shortly to take your measurements and discuss your preferences and requirements."

Tauriel blanched. "I do not want to be any trouble."

"It is no trouble. Lord Elrond has taken you under his protection." Lindir cocked his head to the side. "You do not understand the magnitude of what he has done yet, do you? He has declared that you and your descendants are members of the House of Elrond. Politeness is not the only reason for me to refer to you as Lady Tauriel."

Tauriel appeared struck speechless, so Bilbo escorted Lindir to the door, thanking him again for his help.

"No thanks are necessary. It is hardly difficult for me to ask the help of the Master of the Guild of Tailors, after all--she is my grandmother."

"Your grandmother?" Bilbo realized that it was silly to feel shocked that an Elf had anything so normal-sounding as a grandmother. They had not after all sprung up out of the ground like mushrooms. Still, the word "grandmother" conjured up images of his Grandmother Took ruling over her empire of children and grandchildren with an iron fist covered by a cabbage-rose patterned oven mitt.

"Yes. The title of Master of the Guild is used no matter the gender of the Guild Master," Lindir said, clearly misunderstanding the reason for Bilbo's surprise. "She says she is looking forward to the challenge."

"Dressing me is a challenge?" Tauriel asked in a subdued tone once Lindir had gone, promising to return with his grandmother shortly.

Bilbo patted her hand. "Only a challenge in the sense of being different from the usual," he assured her.

When Lindir returned with his grandmother, Bilbo was shocked to see that she looked barely older than her grandson. She had long dark hair and a face so similar to Lindir's that without foreknowledge of their family relationship Bilbo might have taken her for his sister, not his grandmother.

She introduced herself briskly as Lainiel. "You're about six months along?" she asked Tauriel.

"Approximately," Tauriel answered, though Bilbo knew that she could have answered that question to the exact day.

"Ah, I remember that stage. Enjoy being able to see your own feet while you still can," she added with a surprisingly mischievous smile. "I have been informed by my grandson that you need to be able to shoot a bow and wield a blade whilst wearing a dress, yes?"

"Yes." Tauriel raised her chin defensively.

"That is all? Lindir, I thought you said that this would be a challenge," she said with a mock-chiding shake of her head. "However, I would like to see your archery and bladework in person so that I can design your dress for the proper range of motion. Fetch your bow and blades, and we will go to the archery range."

Tauriel shook her head. "No need to fetch my blades." She lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing that she carried her daggers in sheaths tucked into the tops of her knee-high boots. Even in Rivendell, Tauriel refused to go entirely unarmed. 

"Clever!" Lainiel said approvingly. "I shall keep the boot sheaths in mind when I design the hem. Come along, then."

"You do not need to take my measurements?" Tauriel looked tentatively relieved.

"No need. I could tell you your measurement to the quarter of an inch right now."

Bilbo did not doubt the confidence in her voice. Her face looked no older than a girl in her thirties, but her eyes were much older. Besides, he doubted that one could become Master of a Guild among the Elves without being extraordinarily good at one's craft.

The four of them walked together to the open field where the Rivendell guards and scouts practiced their archery. The Elves stared at them, some discreetly and some without any shame, as Tauriel claimed a spot at the range and drew her bow. Bilbo wasn't sure what the difference was, but her bow appeared shorter and curved differently from those the Rivendell Elves carried.

Tauriel shot several arrows in quick succession, each flying true to the center of the target.

"I've seen all I need to of your archery," Lainiel said briskly. "I would like to see your bladework now, for I imagine that is where the full range of motion you need will become apparent."

Tauriel nodded. "It would be best if you could see me sparring, but I do not know who I could ask for a practice match."

"It would be my privilege to assist you, my lady," Elladan said smoothly as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His twin trailed behind him, silent as usual--Bilbo did not think that he had heard more than two sentences out of Elrohir.

"Thank you, my lord." Tauriel gave a perfunctory-looking bow. 

"Please, call me Elladan." He smiled and bowed gracefully to Tauriel, appearing entirely unmoved by her irritated scowl.

"Oh, but my lord, it would be disrespectful of me not to refer to you properly." She sounded as if it amused her to parrot Lindir's words from earlier.

Bilbo watched the admiring gleam in Elladan's eyes and thought that the Elf lord might have mistaken the reason for her amusement. Oh dear, did he think that she was flirting with him? He did, Bilbo realized with dismay as Elladan offered to help Tauriel demonstrate her bladework. _Oh dear._

Bilbo glanced at Lindir, hoping to trade a commiserating glance. He found instead that the secretary was distracted by darting quick glances at Elrohir, who seemed oblivious to his attention. Oh really now, was everyone in Rivendell secretly infatuated with someone else? 

Remembering his own hopeless admiration for Thorin's noble bearing and deep rumbling voice in the moonlight (which had almost been enough to distract Bilbo entirely from the question of the moon runes), he could only imagine that it was something in the water of Rivendell that caused people to go completely addlepated.

They chose an open area with a level, grassy lawn for the sparring match. Lindir was called upon to judge the match, with the winner scoring the best two out of three touches. Tauriel and Elladan bowed to each other and the match began.

Elladan wielded a sword almost twice the length of Tauriel's twin daggers. She did not seem at all worried, even though Bilbo's heart was in his throat at the thought of their blades slipping. They circled each other for a few minutes, each watching their opponent intently. Bilbo was reminded of the way that cats would circle each other, watching for the smallest opening before they sprang.

They had acquired an audience, murmuring quietly to each other in their musical-sounding language as they watched the match.

Elladan feinted and Tauriel easily turned his blade aside with her daggers, moving into his body and tapping his chest with one of her blades. 

"A touch!" Lindir called.

"I thought you meant to make this a real practice match, not a demonstration session for apprentices who have just picked up their first blade," she taunted, grinning fiercely.

Elladan's cheeks flushed. "My apologies, Lady Tauriel," he said as they exchanged another quick pass of blades. "I should have remembered your impressive bladework against the Orcs."

"Yes, you should have," she said, and then they were silent except for the hiss of their blades meeting. She kept most of her body out of the range of his sword, Bilbo noticed, angling herself so that her right arm was extended from her body while she kept her left-hand dagger back in a defensive position.

After an exchange of moves too quick for Bilbo to follow, Lindir called, "A touch!" 

Bilbo did not realize that this time it was Elladan who had scored the touch until he saw a thin red line on Tauriel's forearm begin to drip with blood. Aghast, he looked to Lainiel. "Shouldn't they be wearing some sort of armor?"

"Do not fret. Warriors are rarely seriously injured during practice bouts."

"Rarely--rarely does not mean never! Are you all mad?"

"Your friend will win this match, never fear. Elladan is the third finest swordsman in Rivendell, but I believe it would take the second finest in Rivendell to defeat her. That would be Lord Elrond," she added with a sly-looking smile.

"Who is the finest swordsman in Rivendell?" Bilbo was surprised to hear that it wasn't Lord Elrond.

"Glorfindel, of course," she said as casually as if she were referring to a distant cousin rather than a figure of legend. (For all Bilbo knew, she might be.) Lainiel clasped her hands together as the crowd suddenly murmured loudly. "Oh, that was a lovely move! Very graceful."

Bilbo jerked his head around and saw that Tauriel had somehow knocked Elladan, who towered over her by almost a foot, onto his back and was now kneeling on his chest with her daggers crossed at his neck. She had a feral smile on her face and her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. The long sleeves of the dress fluttered behind her like banners in the light breeze. Elladan was staring up at her, transfixed.

"Second touch and the bout goes to Lady Tauriel," Lindir announced.

Bilbo thought that if Elves ever did anything to undignified as clapping their hands in applause, quite a few of them would be applauding her right now.

Tauriel rose to her feet, graceful despite the distinct swell of her belly, and she and Elladan bowed to each other once he regained his feet. Turning away from him, she missed the admiring way the Elf lord stared after her as she walked away.

_Oh dear,_ Bilbo thought again. 

Tauriel was smiling as she walked to meet them--the real, open smile that Bilbo treasured all the more for its rarity. They fell into step with Lainiel as they walked away from the practice field. Bilbo glanced back and saw Lindir, pink-cheeked and hurrying to catch up with them.

"That was lovely bladework, Tauriel. I believe that I have seen enough to start work on your dress."

"I thank you for your kindness. But I do...have a question." Tauriel's ears flushed red and she looked painfully embarrassed. "It is regarding payment. I do not have coin, but I could pay by barter. I would imagine, though, that a dress made by a Master Tailor costs rather more than two geese."

Lainiel waved her off, laughing. "What on Arda would I do with a flock of geese? No, child, do not fret over it. Lord Elrond will pay for the dress. Now, what colors are you partial to? Are you fond of green, or was that simply a matter of choosing the least objectionable option?"

"Oh, it does not matter to me. Whatever you choose is fine."

Bilbo coughed and muttered under his breath, "Green is her favorite." Tauriel gave him a chiding look.

"Wonderful! I have a bolt of dark green linen that has been waiting for just such an opportunity. I will start work immediately. Lindir, darling, if you have no pressing obligations to Lord Elrond then I shall require you to make yourself useful moving bolts of cloth and boxes and whatnot for your aged grandmother." With a twinkle in her eye, Lainiel bowed to them before sailing off with her grandson in tow.

Once they had returned to their rooms, Bilbo said, "You must let me take a look at your wrist. I'm certainly no Óin, but I can bandage a minor cut."

Tauriel shook her head. "It is nothing to be concerned about." Crossing to the basin, she wetted a cloth from the ewer of water. She wiped the blood away from her arm, revealing undamaged skin with no trace of the cut she had received earlier.

"That is astonishing! I would have been lucky not to scar from that cut, and you've already healed."

"We Elves heal quickly and without scars, unless the damage is enough to kill us. Usually," she added in a quiet voice as she traced the scar along the side of her face.

The good humor fled from her eyes as she stared broodingly down at the bloodstained cloth she still held in her hands. Bilbo would have wagered Bag End that he knew exactly what she was thinking of now, for his mind had also returned to the Battle and the people they had lost.

Though he tried not to think of it, Bilbo could not help but picture the ugly wounds covered by bloodstained bandages that had stretched across Thorin's wide chest. If he had survived his wounds, Thorin would have been terribly scarred. Bilbo would have treasured each and every one of those scars as proof that he had _lived_.

At least the Valar had granted him the one mercy, that he and Thorin had the chance to speak one last time before he died. His eyes clear and lucid, free of the dark, terrifying gleam of madness for the first time in days, Thorin had apologized and begged for Bilbo's forgiveness for his words and actions on the wall. _They are already forgiven. That madness was not you, my love,_ Bilbo had choked out, unsure if the Dwarf could even hear him by that point. But he thought that there had been a hint of a smile on Thorin's face before his eyes closed and his hand lost its grip on Bilbo's arm.

Shaking himself out of his dark thoughts, Bilbo composed himself. Tauriel still stared unseeingly down at her hands, grief carving lines into her ageless face.

"I had thought that what was worst was to have no hope at all," she mused. "But I have found that harboring a faint, unreliable hope, when all your rational thought tells you there is no hope at all, is yet more painful."

"What do you mean, Tauriel?...Tauriel?" he repeated when she did not immediately respond.

Looking up with an unconvincing smile, she shook her head. "No, do not mind me, _mellon nín_. It is nothing."

It was _something_ , of that Bilbo was certain. He would be as patient as he could be, and hope that someday soon Tauriel would trust him enough to share with him whatever was troubling her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [runakvaed](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/) for creating [awesome cover art](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/post/84639890293/flowers-among-the-fallen-leaves-by-garafthel) for Flowers!


	8. Dwarves At the Doorstep

As Nori saw it, the first sign of trouble had been that Dáin had been willing to send an army to the aid of Erebor at all.

Dáin hadn't been willing to risk the lives of his kin--or his money--on backing the expedition in the first place. And now he was willing to send an _entire army_ to help the Company hold Erebor against two besieging armies? 

"It's fishy, that's what it is," Nori had said, but had anybody listened? Of course not. No more so than when he had said, "It's a bloody great dragon, we're going to need a better plan than "send in the Hobbit and hope for the best," mates."

But no one ever listened to a thief. Nori was accustomed to it by now, though the Company dismissing his _professional opinion_ about the plan to steal the Arkenstone was more than a little frustrating.

"Anyway, I'm wandering off from the point. So like I said, the first sign that there was something fishy with Dáin was how willing he was to send his entire army to Erebor to stand off against two bloody armies, one of which was a piss-load of Mirkwood Elves. But no one listened to the thief, of course. They can carve that on my tomb, by the by. "No one ever listens to the thief." That'll be lovely. I'm sure Dori will be proud."

His audience, consisting of two ponies and the back of Bofur's hat, seemed unimpressed. 

Nori prodded his pony to catch up with Bofur, finding that the miner's eyes were closed and his mouth hung open, snoring gently. Asleep.

"The Hobbit was a much better audience," Nori informed him. "And you in the lead, too! It's a good thing we're not in the middle of the trackless wilderness anymore. You'd have ended us up in a Troll's stewpot no doubt."

Indeed, the path they followed was very well-marked and difficult to miss. They had passed Bree a day ago (sadly, they had agreed that their task was too urgent to stop off for a round or two--or twelve--at the Prancing Pony) and now they followed the well-traveled trail towards the Shire.

In fact, they were coming up on the place where the path split. One way would bypass most of the Shire and the other would take them right through the little village by Bilbo's house. "Bilbo!" Nori exclaimed.

"What? Where?" Bofur woke with a snort, looking around blearily. 

"Just something Kíli said. He asked me to go visit Bilbo on the way." Nori's mouth watered at the thought of the Hobbit's pantry. Roast chicken, sausages, ham... "We should do as Prince Kíli asked and go check on the Hobbit." Nori nodded decisively.

"We're supposed to find Princess Dís as quick as we can," Bofur protested.

"It's basically on the way! And we should let Bilbo know what's happening in Erebor. Why, what if the poor dear fellow got the thought in his head to come visit? That would be a fine mess."

It really would, too, now that Nori thought about it. Bofur was easily enough convinced and they wended their way through the Shire to the familiar green door. Honestly, Nori couldn't understand how Thorin had gotten himself lost not once but twice along the way.

Bag End looked deserted, with dark windows and no smoke from the chimney. Nori tried the door knocker anyway, but no one came.

"What now?" Bofur asked. Nori shrugged, sadly saying goodbye to the visions of Bilbo's delicious little meat pasties. 

"You there!" a strident female voice called. "What are you doing skulking around Bag End?"

Nori turned and stared at the Hobbit woman stomping her way up the lane toward them. She wore more ruffles than he had ever seen one person wear at the same time. Her dress and coat were a violently clashing mix of lavender, orange, and green, and she was carrying an umbrella (also ruffled, eye-searingly pink) that seemed barely able to withstand the light spring rain. The ruffles at the bottom of her dress were soaked with water and splashed with mud.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Bofur said, removing his hat and holding it in front of him respectfully. "You wouldn't happen to know our dear friend Bilbo Baggins, would you?"

"You two are friends of his?" She sniffed. "Well, that _does_ explain a lot. Yes, I do know Bilbo Baggins, to my great chagrin. I am his cousin by marriage, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."

"Bofur, at your service, Mistress Sackville-Baggins," Bofur said with a deep, flourishing bow. "Do you know when Bilbo might return? He doesn't appear to be at home."

For a moment she wavered, but clearly the urge to gossip was stronger than her suspicion of outsiders. "Well, there's no telling now, is there? Since he's run off with that ginger Elf girl who's been staying with him at Bag End. With no chaperone, mind you, but then she's certainly no better than she should be."

Bofur leaned in with wide eyes. "You don't say?"

"That girl's in the family way, no mistake. Pretty little thing, other than that unfortunate scar, poor girl. But as for her story... well, perhaps I shouldn't say," she trailed off, giving the impression that she certainly _wanted_ to say whatever it was.

"Bless me, you can't just leave us hanging like that, Mistress Sackville-Baggins. Tell us the rest of the story? Please?" Bofur opened his eyes very wide, managing to look young and puppyish despite the fact that he towered over the Hobbit woman. Nori wanted to roll his eyes, but it was bad form to distract a mark, particularly when you stood to profit (if only in gossip) from the deal.

The Hobbit woman patted her hair and flipped open a small fan (lime green and orange striped), fanning herself with it in an attempt to hide a smug-looking smile. "Well, I hate to gossip, but just between us, her story about her husband is pure bunkum. Married to a nobleman who died in a great battle? Pish tosh. There have been no battles anywhere near the Shire in hundreds of years. And as for him being nobility, I'd say that's about as much a fairy story as her husband's death in battle. Or dare I say, his very _existence_ ," she added with raised eyebrows.

Bofur's mouth had fallen open around the time she mentioned the Elf's husband had died in a great battle. Nori himself had put the pieces together when she first mentioned a pregnant red-haired Elf, but that detail made it certain--Kíli had managed to get his Elf chit pregnant. And he'd married her too, at least according to her story.

Since Bofur appeared to be struck dumb, Nori gave the Hobbit woman his most charming smile. "Well, that is quite the story! Say, you wouldn't happen to have any notion where Bilbo and the Elf girl wandered off to, would you?"

She gave him a suspicious look, apparently not as taken by his charms as she had been by Bofur's. "I'm afraid I can't share that with you. My cousin-in-law is a very private person and I'm sure he wouldn't want that information to be given out to just anyone. I give you good day, sirs."

They weren't going to make any more headway with her, and besides Nori could tell she had no idea where Bilbo was. Takes a liar to know a liar, as his dear old mum always said.

They made their farewells and retreated. Nori could feel the Hobbit woman's glare on his back all the way down the lane until they turned onto the main road.

"Shale and tar, what was that boy thinking?" Bofur hissed. "Elves and Dwarves aren't supposed to mix like that. I didn't even know it was _possible_! But now that Elf girl has a bun in the oven and Kíli doesn't even know about it."

"Not to mention, apparently he married the girl. Never would have bet on that." Nori stroked his beard thoughtfully, contemplating the odds. "You do realize she's carrying the heir to the throne of Erebor, right?"

Bofur's eyes widened. "I hadn't thought of that! What's King Thorin going to say to that?"

"If King Thorin is still alive, that news might just kill him." Nori snorted, imagining high-and-mighty Thorin Oakenshield with his hatred of Elves realizing that the eventual heir to the throne of Erebor was half-Elven. "Well, maybe the child isn't Kíli's. I mean, when would they even have managed it?"

"I saw them sneak off together a couple nights after Smaug attacked Lake-Town. And I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know a few things, and one of those is what it looks like when two people are in love." Bofur sighed gustily. "Those two were ass over teakettle in love with each other."

"Well, that's certain then. Elves may be annoying giants with an exaggerated sense of their own superiority, but even I have to admit that they are no less faithful in matters of love than we Dwarves. The baby has to be Kíli's."

Bofur tugged anxiously at the long ears of his hat. "Bless my bones. I just realized we're going to be the ones who have to tell Princess Dís."

"That her son's gotten an Elf knocked up? Oh, and the fact that we have no idea where she is?" Nori winced. "At least we get to lead in with the fact that Prince Kíli is alive. Look on the bright side, yeah? Maybe she'll be too happy about that to tear our heads off."

***

Dwalin, scowling suspiciously at Nori all the while, had told him how to find Princess Dís in the sprawling Dwarven settlement in the Blue Mountains. But even without that, he'd have known her the minute he spotted her profile. Same nose as Thorin, same high forehead. And something more...an air of command, he thought. Or to put it more bluntly, Princess Dís was intimidating as hell. 

He stood back and let Bofur tell the story of Dáin's treachery, the deteriorating conditions in Erebor, and finally Ori's discovery of the discrepancy in the accounting for the Healers' Halls that had led to the discovery that Dáin's personal healer was keeping a prisoner. 

Dís had been grim-faced and unmoved throughout Bofur's report. Only at the revelation that Kíli was alive did her facade of calmness break. "Alive? Kíli is alive? Oh, thank Mahal." She turned away for a moment, composing herself. "But what of Fíli and Thorin? Did you find any sign that they could be alive as well?" 

Bofur shook his head. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. We didn't find any sign of them. But there are some areas of Erebor we can't get into because of Dáin's men. They could be held captive there."

"Then we will dig into every crack and crevice of Erebor until we find Fíli and Thorin." She drummed her fingers on the table, frowning. "So Balin's plan, if I can call it that, is that I will ride to the gates of Erebor and announce myself the rightful queen?"

Nori and Bofur exchanged looks. "That did seem to be the gist of it, Your Highness," Bofur said.

"I suspect that Balin may be overestimating the loyalty of the commoners of Erebor to the line of Durin. They may have been that loyal to my brother, the legendary Thorin Oakenshield, but to his younger sister Dís?" She snorted softly. "No, I do not think that direct confrontation is the proper route. We will infiltrate Erebor and rescue Kíli, then find Fíli and Thorin if they are still..." her voice caught. "If they are still alive."

Nori nodded, approving of the plan. So far, Princess Dís seemed to have more common sense than her royal brother. 

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Yes? Do you have thoughts about the plan? What is your role in this, Master Nori?"

"Just Nori, Your Highness. I'm a bit of an acquisition and scouting specialist, if you take my meaning. I was the one who found my way into the Healers' Halls and spoke to Prince Kíli. Speaking of which, there's another wrinkle."

"Yes?"

"Prince Kíli wanted me to find a girl he'd been sweet on before everything happened with the Battle and Dáin. He told me to look at the house of one Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit who helped us regain Erebor."

Her eyes narrowed. "And stole the Arkenstone, by the reports I have seen."

"Well, reports can miss the big picture even if they hold true to the basic facts. Bilbo stole the Arkenstone with the best of intentions--he thought it would stop the battle between the Company, the Elves, and the Lake-Men. As it turned out, the battle happened anyway, but it was all of us fighting against the Orcs and Wargs."

Nori faltered for a moment, thinking about the Battle--the smell of blood thick in the air, the screams of the wounded. He shook himself out of the memory.

"Anyway, I'm wandering away from the point. So Kíli--Prince Kíli, that is--told me to look at Bilbo's house for his girl. But neither one of them was there. That's where it gets interesting. We talked to a gossipy old hen who knew Bilbo and she says that the girl was pregnant and had some story about her husband being a nobleman who died in a big battle."

Princess Dís sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Pregnant? So she is carrying Kíli's child." She smiled with mingled joy and sadness. "My grandchild."

"Yes," Nori said slowly. "But there's another wrinkle, err, to the wrinkle."

Her eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"The girl in question is an Elf."

Dís shook her head. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you say, an Elf?"

"Aye, she's about as pointy-eared as they come," Bofur said, chewing on the stem of his pipe. "Not bad, though, as Elves go. She saved Kíli's life, she did."

"Even so, Dwarves and Elves can't have children together. At least, I've never heard of such a thing occurring." She paused, frowning. "But if we consider that it might be possible... then things become somewhat more complicated."

"The thing is, we don't know where the chit and Bilbo have wandered off to." Nori spread his hands out. "They could be anywhere by now. The old hen we spoke to was Bilbo's kinswoman, and even she didn't know."

Dís nodded, looking thoughtful. "Our first priority must be to rescue Kíli and find Fíli and Thorin. After that, we can go looking for the girl. But nothing is more important than rescuing my sons and brother. Nori, you said that your brother had noticed expensive materials being purchased by the Healers' Halls. What were they?"

Nori handed her the list. She glanced over it, frowning. "I do not have the knowledge of alchemy to understand what these materials might be combined to create. I fear that we may need to ask someone with much greater knowledge of the mystical arts than any in the Blue Mountains possess." She paused, looking like she had bitten into something sour. "We're going to need to visit Rivendell and consult with Lord Elrond."

Bofur coughed, almost swallowing his pipe. "Oh, I think the Elves might remember the two of us. Me for my singing, and Nori for his--"

Nori jerked his head at him, making a meaningful face, and Bofur obviously changed the next thing he was going to say. "For his way with a flute."

Princess Dís gave them a sharp look. "Hmm," she said noncommittally.

They had a few days in the Blue Mountains while Princess Dís made preparations for the journey. She would travel as Bofur's kinswoman, she had decided. "Just call me Dís for now. You need to get out of the habit of referring to me as "Princess" and "Your Highness" or else it will slip out at the worst possible time."

Bofur spent the time drinking and seeing old friends; Nori did less drinking and the "old friends" he saw were the type to stab him in the back given the chance. Still, he managed to gather some information from a few expatriates of the Iron Hills.

"This Healer of Dáin's is notorious for a few things: a fascination with the alchemist's art, and a certain lack of concern with whether subjects of his experiments survive with their sanity intact, if they survive at all." Nori left out the more gruesome details; this was her son they were talking about. Kíli had seemed sane to him, but a lot could happen in the time it took to travel from Erebor to Ered Luin and back.

Dís squared her chin, her eyes like chips of blue ice. "If he does anything to harm my son he will pray to Mahal to put him out of his misery."

Nori made a mental note never to make Princess Dís that angry if he could help it. 

***

Tauriel felt hemmed in and restless in Imladris, beautiful though it was. The entire valley was as carefully tended as a Hobbit's front garden, even the parts that probably looked wild to the casual eye. By the time that six weeks had passed in the tranquil beauty of Imladris, she felt near to going mad with sheer boredom.

"It is very beautiful, of course, but I feel as if I am walking through a garden, not a forest," she told Bilbo. The two of them were sitting on a bench in the pleasant courtyard beside the library which had become their habitual spot to sit and talk in the afternoons. 

He nodded, gesturing with his pipe as he said, "I can feel it too! I suppose that is part of why I feel so very at home here. But having spent time in Mirkwood, I can imagine that this must feel boring and tame to you. No giant spiders or Orcs to hunt." Looking pleased with himself, he puffed out a perfectly circular smoke ring. 

She was careful not to make a face at the smell. Bilbo loved his pipeweed, and for the sake of their friendship she would endure much more than the stink of burning leaves. "It is certainly not the lack of giant spiders that bothers me. Though I have considered riding out with Lord Elrond's sons to hunt Orcs."

Bilbo put his pipe down, his eyes wide with alarm. "Not in your condition, surely!"

"Why ever not? I am pregnant, not enfeebled. The women of my people do not limit their duties because of pregnancy. If I were in Mirkwood--" She paused, struck by a sudden wave of longing for the trees of home. She had dreamed of traveling and seeing the world outside the boundaries of the forest, but she had always thought that she would be able to come home afterward to the Woodland Realm.

"Tauriel." Bilbo rested his hand on her arm. "I am so sorry that King Thranduil has decided to be such a...Troll snot for brains."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Oh, _mellon nín_ , I am sad that you will probably never get the chance to scold King Thranduil in person! Truly, the bards would sing of that chastising for centuries."

Bilbo laughed at that. "The Ballad of Bilbo the Scolding Hobbit! Though I'm sure your bards would come up with a better title." Sobering, he added, "Still, considering the unusual nature of your pregnancy, might it not be more wise to exercise greater caution than would be usual for one of your people?"

It chafed at her, the thought of sitting idle for five more months. "I do not like being a guest in Lord Elrond's house without contributing anything in return."

"Lord Elrond would never throw you out for not contributing anything to Rivendell. I mean, look at me--all I can contribute are my poems and songs. And those are mostly doggerel, to be quite honest."

"I like your songs," she protested, frowning at him. "But it is not that I fear Lord Elrond will throw me out. It is just...I was the Captain of the Forest Guard for over a hundred years, and before that I led my own squad for many years. I am not accustomed to sitting idle. I do not like feeling useless."

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both turn. Lindir bowed politely. 

" _Mae g'ovannen_ , Tauriel and Bilbo." They had at last won the battle against Lindir referring to them as "Lady Tauriel and Master Baggins." "My lord Elrond would like to see you in his study at your convenience."

Tauriel and Bilbo exchanged glances. Could Lord Elrond have found the information they had been seeking? "We will attend upon him immediately," Tauriel said. "Thank you, Lindir." The secretary nodded with a very slight smile and hurried away.

Lord Elrond awaited them in his study. He was dressed simply, in a dark blue surcoat with only his circlet indicating his rank. They exchanged greetings and then Elrond gestured them over to a table which held a brown-edged and crumbling scroll fragment preserved between two thin sheets of glass.

"In his search for any mention of a half-Dwarven, half-Elven child, Erestor has unearthed scrolls lost in the depths of the archives centuries ago. Most of this scroll is illegible, but the readable section holds a fragment of a very interesting story."

Tauriel felt her heart jump. "What is it, my lord?"

"This scroll holds a record of the last days of Eregion, the Elven realm that lay just outside the gates of Moria, or Hadhodrond as it was then known in our tongue. The Elves of Eregion and the Dwarves of Moria had between them an unprecedented level of friendship. The West-gate of Moria, the Doors of Durin, were created by the partnership of Celebrimbor and the Dwarven craftsman Narvi."

"Oh yes, I remember reading about this!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Celebrimbor was one of the greatest smiths of the Noldor Elves, and the grandson of Fëanor. I don't think I've ever heard anything about Narvi other than his name."

Tauriel kept quiet, not wanting to show her ignorance. She had never studied much history, and certainly not the history of the Noldor, whom King Thranduil despised.

"This scroll states that during the destruction of Eregion by the forces of Sauron, Celebrimbor convinced Narvi to flee Eregion and seek refuge with the Dwarves of the East. This is where it becomes interesting. The histories have always referred to Narvi as male. In fact, this scroll uses male pronouns for Narvi--but it also says that ‘Narvi, bearing their child, fled before the forces of Sauron and traveled far to the East, from there passing out of history.’ The word the scroll uses there only refers to Elven children, not the children of Men or Dwarves," Elrond explained to Bilbo.

Tauriel barely heard him, for she had realized the significance of the word immediately. "Narvi, bearing their child--Narvi and Celebrimbor's child? That would mean--"

"You are not the first," Elrond said gently. "Others have loved as you have, and borne at least one child of that union."

She was not sure why it affected her so, the knowledge that an Elf and a Dwarf from thousands of years ago had found love together. She could not help thinking of Kíli's desperate plea as they stood on the brink of battle for her to join the Mirkwood archers up on the ridge, where he believed she would be safer than on the field of battle by his side. In Celebrimbor's place Kíli would have done precisely the same: begged her to flee while he stayed behind to defend their people. "What happened to Celebrimbor?"

"He was captured and tortured by the forces of Sauron so that he would reveal the location of the Three Rings of Power. He resisted their torture, eventually dying of his wounds without betraying their location to the Enemy."

Tauriel felt the faint fluttering sensation of the baby moving restlessly, perhaps alarmed by her racing pulse. Rubbing her belly soothingly, she tried not to imagine Kíli in Celebrimbor's place, tortured by the Enemy, welcoming death before betrayal. She thought of the ghost or vision she had seen of Kíli and how certain he had seemed that he was not dead. Was Kíli held prisoner somewhere, somehow speaking to her through a connection between their very souls? Was it possible?

"Lord Elrond, there is something I must speak to you about, regarding Kíli." She paused a moment, still feeling as if what she was about to say was almost laughable. Perhaps she was a fool to even think it possible.

"Yes?"

"I think that he may not be--"

The door to the study opened. "My lord, please excuse my interruption," Lindir said. The normally unflappable secretary looked frazzled. "I'm afraid we have unexpected guests."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Yes? Who are they?"

Lindir swallowed. Tauriel expected it to be something completely terrifying, considering the look of dread on his face. Instead the secretary opened his mouth and said one word, with all the weight one would give to a pronouncement of doom.

"Dwarves."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> mae g'ovannen - you are well met  
> mellon nín - my friend
> 
> ***
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> Since there has been a little confusion about this, Narvi's pregnancy was not mpreg in the fanfiction sense. Narvi was passing as male among the non-Dwarves.


	9. The Council of In-Laws

The word "Dwarves" seemed to echo around the room.

"Did these Dwarves give you their names?" Elrond asked.

"Two of them stayed here before as part of Master Bilbo's group."

Bilbo perked up. Members of the Company? "Which ones?"

"The minstrel and the....scout," Lindir said. 

Bilbo had the impression that he'd switched words at the last minute--probably from "thief," if he was referring to Nori. He would guess that "minstrel" meant Bofur, after his memorable musical performance at dinner during their last visit.

It would be so wonderful to see both of them again! Bilbo hadn't realized how much he would miss the Company when he returned to the Shire.

"They accompany a Dwarf woman who identifies herself as Princess Dís of Erebor."

"Princess Dís? Thorin's sister?" Bilbo felt a little faint, but that was nothing compared to the alarm that had widened Tauriel's eyes and drained all color from her face.

"Please make them welcome and house them in the wing where the Dwarves stayed last time," Elrond said. "I will meet with them here in an hour, after they have had a chance to refresh themselves from the journey.

"But we only recently finished replacing all the furniture they destroyed..." At a warning glance from Elrond, Lindir bowed and said, "Yes, my lord," before hurrying away.

"Are you all right?" Bilbo eyed Tauriel with concern.

"I am fine. It was just a surprise, that is all." Tauriel rested her hand on her stomach as she asked Elrond, "Princess Dís is Kíli and Fíli's mother, is she not?"

"Yes. It is an odd happenstance that she should visit Imladris just now. Bilbo, did you tell anyone your destination before you left the Shire?"

"I'm sure the gossips had a field day speculating, but all that I told anyone was that I was going on another adventure. It certainly would not be difficult to guess we were going to Rivendell, considering Tauriel's condition."

Tauriel paced back and forth. "Why would they follow us here, unless it is because they have learned that the baby I carry is the heir to the throne of Erebor? I will not allow my child to become a political pawn. I would travel to the uttermost East and live among the Avari first."

"You are under my protection and no harm will come to you or your child while you are here," Lord Elrond said sharply. In a calmer tone, he added, "We may be making much of nothing. They could be visiting for reasons entirely unrelated to your pregnancy."

"How often do Dwarves visit Rivendell?" Bilbo was fairly sure he already knew the answer.

"Not often," Elrond admitted. "Tauriel, do you wish to remain secluded while they are here? I can ensure that they are not told of your presence."

"No." Tauriel's chin lifted and her eyes flashed as she said, "I will not act as if I am ashamed of my baby or afraid. I will not hide."

"Very well. But rest assured that if they do threaten you, they will face my wrath." His eyes glinted coldly, reminding Bilbo suddenly that this was the same Elrond who had led armies under the High King of the Elves thousands of years ago. Then the dangerous glint receded and Elrond was simply their genial host once more. "Do you wish to join us in an hour for the initial meeting?"

Tauriel nodded, her chin set stubbornly. "Yes, my lord. Thank you."

Bilbo and Tauriel were almost to the door when Elrond asked, "Tauriel, was there something you were going to tell me before we were interrupted? Something about Kíli?"

Biting her lip, she hesitated at the door and then shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, I am sure it is nothing but a foolish fancy."

They returned to their suite so that they could change into outfits more appropriate for meeting a Princess. Bilbo's fingers hovered over the waistcoat he'd ordered made in the dark blue that Thorin had always worn. He drew back his hand, uncertain whether it might be inappropriate to wear that color in front of Thorin's sister. What if there was a significance to it that he did not realize? In the end he chose the waistcoat in maroon silk damask that Lainiel had declared perfect for his coloring and left the dark blue hanging in his wardrobe.

In the common room of their suite, he found that Tauriel had changed into her favorite of the dresses which Lainiel had made for her (despite Tauriel's protests that she certainly did not need more than one dress.) The dark green silk contrasted dramatically with her flaming red hair and emphasized the green in her changeable hazel eyes. Gathered below her bosom, the material cascaded over her increasingly prominent stomach and ended in a hem that the Master Tailor had described as "handkerchief," with long slits along either side so that Tauriel could easily draw the daggers sheathed in the boots she wore over fawn-colored trousers. 

Daggers, Bilbo noticed with some worry, that Tauriel was now drawing and sheathing to check the ease with which they could be drawn.

"Bofur and Nori are our friends. I'm sure that they intend no harm to you or your baby."

"They are your friends, not mine. Princess Dís is a complete unknown. I must be prepared for anything."

Bilbo rubbed his hand across his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Confound these Elves and Dwarves with their stubborn determination to hold on to grudges from Ages ago!

"Have you considered that you might be being a little bit paranoid?"

Tauriel stopped fussing with her boots and looked up at him. " _Mellon nín_ , the Shire is indeed a kind and gentle place. As I told you, I would have loved to have been able to raise my child there. But there are certain lessons learned growing up in a dangerous land which are more valuable than you might believe. Paranoia, you call it? Then paranoia has saved my life in the past and will again in the future."

It was clear that he was not going to make any headway on convincing her. Bilbo resigned himself to once again act as the voice of reason between quarrelling groups of Dwarves and Elves. At least there wasn't an actual siege in progress this time...yet.

***

Dís looked like a female version of her brother. Her long, narrow nose and pale blue eyes, the strands of silver in her dark hair, the way she held herself...it was like seeing a ghost. Bilbo sucked in a breath, feeling gut-punched.

The Dwarves entered the room with Dís in the lead, Nori and Bofur following behind her and slightly to either side. Bilbo was painfully reminded of how Balin and Dwalin used to flank Thorin in just the same way. 

Lord Elrond had ordered a circle of chairs set up in what was normally an open area of his study. Bilbo and Tauriel stood together and Elrond stood a little apart from them, careful to not appear closer to either side. Bilbo approved of the attempt to keep the meeting on equal footing. Everything would be easier if the Dwarves did not start out the meeting feeling at a disadvantage.

"You are well met. I am Lord Elrond of Imladris."

Dís nodded regally in response to Lord Elrond's greeting. "I am Princess Dís of Erebor, sister to Thorin Oakenshield." Her cold blue eyes flicked to Bilbo and Tauriel, seeming to examine them with unemotional intensity. "And these must be Bilbo Baggins and Tauriel of Mirkwood, of whom I have heard many things."

Tauriel seemed unlikely to speak--or if she did it was probably going to be disastrous--so Bilbo threw himself into the conversational void. "All good things, I hope!"

"I am told that you stole the Arkenstone and gave it to our enemies."

"Bard was not Thorin's enemy!" Bilbo sputtered. "And as for the rest, yes, I did take the Arkenstone, but I did it to try to prevent a war."

"So Nori has informed me."

The thief winked at Bilbo, smirking under his elaborately braided beard. They had developed an odd sort of camaraderie during the Quest. Nori was determined to make Bilbo into a competent thief and Bilbo was determined not to steal anything. As it turned out, the one thing that Bilbo had ever stolen in his career as a burglar had been the Arkenstone--a gem possibly worth more than the entirety of the Shire.

"And me?" Tauriel asked. "What have you heard of me?"

Dís regarded her with a face that seemed carved from stone. "I have heard that my youngest son was foolishly enamoured with you."

"Foolishly?" Tauriel's eyes flashed. "Kíli and I loved each other. We married each other under the stars two days before the Battle."

"And now you bear the heir to the throne of Erebor," Dís said with a slow glance down at Tauriel's midsection. "Tell me, was your plan to travel to Erebor and have yourself declared Queen Regent to your infant child?"

"What? No, that is absurd," Tauriel snapped. "I would no more declare myself Queen of Erebor than style myself Empress of Mirkwood. I have no interest in ruling anyone. All I want for my child is a life of security and peace."

"Which you would have managed by raising Kíli's child as far as possible from his family?"

Tauriel hesitated and bit her lip. Dís's eyes narrowed, giving the impression of a wolf who had scented blood on the wind.

Lord Elrond stepped forward, drawing everyone's eyes to him. "Let us not become mired down in the ancient angers that divide our two people. We will sit down together calmly and with open minds and hearts, without accusation or blame."

Both Dís and Tauriel looked reluctant to agree, but with suspicious glances at each other they sat opposite of one another in the circle of chairs. Bilbo sat next to Tauriel and Elrond sat on her other side, with Nori and Bofur once again flanking Dís. Bilbo noticed that the chairs that had been set out were all of a comfortable height for a Dwarf, which meant that his feet still dangled a few inches from the floor but at least getting into the chair wasn't quite as awkward as usual.

Elrond spoke first. "Princess Dís, may I ask why you have come to Imladris? Though I am happy to host you, this is not a common stopover for Dwarven travelers."

Dís hesitated, eyeing Tauriel and Bilbo warily. "You are correct. There is an urgent matter which has brought me to Rivendell."

"Please do not hesitate to speak freely in front of Tauriel and Bilbo. They will both treat matters discussed here with the utmost discretion."

Bilbo attempted to project trustworthiness. Dís sighed heavily through her nose and pulled a much-folded square of parchment from her belt pouch. "Know you what these ingredients might be used to create?"

Elrond took the list from her and examined it closely, his eyebrows drawing together. "Opium, belladonna, and kingsfoil?" he asked, looking up at Dís. "Are you certain these were the exact ingredients?"

Nori spoke up. "My little brother is working as a royal scribe. He risked his life to retrieve that information. You can be damned sure that anything on that list is accurate. Copying documents precisely and without error is Ori's profession."

"What does the inclusion of these ingredients tell you?" Her voice was calm, but Bilbo noticed lines of tension around Dís's eyes and mouth.

"Belladonna on its own is often used for pain relief, though in higher doses it is poisonous. Combined with opium it can cause a sort of hallucinatory dream state. Kingsfoil is most often used for its healing properties. However, kingsfoil in large doses can have the side effect of separating the _fae_ \--the spirit--from the body. That is a very dangerous thing to experiment with. No reputable healer would dabble with combining these three ingredients."

"What would happen to someone treated with a potion based on these ingredients?"

"I cannot say with any great deal of certainty, but my suspicion is that used on a mortal it would send the _fae_ traveling untethered from the body, like a wandering spirit. It would be extremely dangerous, if it could be done at all."

"Like a ghost?" Tauriel was white as a sheet. "Would the person's spirit appear like a ghost?"

"I doubt that anyone would be able to see the _fae_. The danger inherent would be to the person whose soul was untethered, not to anyone around them."

"What would be the danger?" Dís asked, leaning forward.

Elrond spread his hands out. "This is purely theoretical, you must understand. No one that I know of has ever experimented with fully separating the _fae_ from the _rhaw_ \--the body. Once the _fae_ and _rhaw_ had been separated, I am not entirely sure how one would go about joining them back together again."

"You are certain that no one has ever experimented with this?" Tauriel asked.

"Not unless you know something more about this that I do, Princess Dís," Elrond said with a keen look at the Dwarf woman.

"Purely theoretical." Dís sat back in her chair, the picture of calmness.

"I think that is a lie," Tauriel said.

Dís threw herself to her feet, her hand hovering over her belt knife. "You question the honor of a Dwarf of the line of Durin?"

"I do not question your honor, only your truthfulness in this specific matter."

Bilbo winced. He did not think that was going to help matters any.

"Peace," Elrond said to Dís. "Let us hear what Tauriel has to say."

Dís hesitated and then sat down, glaring at Tauriel.

Tauriel said slowly, as if testing her words, "I think that this potion to separate spirit and body _has_ been used. This is no theoretical question."

"Don't be absurd," Dís scoffed.

"I _saw_ Kíli, I _spoke_ to him. I thought he was a ghost, but he told me he was alive. I thought I was imagining things, but now you come here to Lord Elrond with a list of ingredients that would turn a living person into a ghost."

Dís's entire demeanor shifted. "You spoke to my son? When? When did you speak to him?"

"I last saw him almost six months ago. He appeared to me one day and I saw him regularly for about three weeks--I lost track of time in the Orc tunnels. I thought he was a hallucination at the time; I thought that I had wandered into the grip of madness. But he seemed so real, so alive to me. He is alive, isn't he? Kíli is alive and he is being held prisoner somewhere."

Dís remained silent.

Tauriel's voice dropped to a whisper as piercing as a scream. "I have a right to know if Kíli is alive."

"What right?" Dís snapped.

"He is my husband."

"So you claim, but you have no proof."

Tauriel pulled her flowing mane of red hair over her shoulder and picked one braided strand out of the mass. Crossing the circle to Dís she showed her the end of the braid. Bilbo could just barely see the metal bead clasping the end of the braid. "Is this proof enough for you?"

"Kíli's marriage bead," Dís said in a hushed voice. Her tone turned harsher as she asked, "Why do you hide it? Are you ashamed of your marriage?"

"Never! I only hid it because I did not know what your people's reaction would be if any saw me pregnant and wearing a Dwarven wedding bead."

"They would have seen you wore the royal raven of Erebor and none would have dared harm you."

Tauriel's head cocked to the side and her voice was very sharp as she asked, "Are you certain? I mean absolutely certain--certain enough to wager your unborn grandchild's life on it?"

Looking unsatisfied, Dís nodded to concede the point. "Very well. But you should not hide it anymore. To hide it means that you feel shame for your marriage."

"So you acknowledge that Kíli and I are married."

"I cannot deny that you wear the proof of it. That is the royal raven of Erebor, and there is Kíli's mark."

"So tell me--" Tauriel's voice broke. "Is Kíli alive, or have I gone mad?"

Dís looked very tired suddenly. "He is alive, or at least he was four months ago. Whether he yet lives, I do not know."

Tauriel felt her way back to her seat and sat down as if her strings had been cut. "Why then were we told that he was dead?"

Dís hesitated, glancing suspiciously at Elrond. "This is not for outsiders to hear."

"Lady Dís, I gave shelter to your brother and his Company and translated the moon runes for them. I say this not to imply that there is anything owed between us, but to point out that there has been friendship between our peoples in the past."

"And war."

Lord Elrond nodded gravely. "And war, yes, but once there was great friendship between the Elves of Eregion and the Dwarves of Moria. I would that there was friendship between our peoples once more. In light of recent developments--" his eyes flicked to Tauriel, "Elves and Dwarves may be brought together more closely than they have been since the Second Age."

Dís tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "What is your interest in this, Lord Elrond? These are all matters of the Wilderlands. Your domain does not extend east of the Misty Mountains."

"Tauriel and all of her descendants are under the protection of the Lord of Imladris. I am intimately concerned with these matters."

Dís's sharp blue eyes flicked from Elrond to Tauriel. "You claim as one of your own an Elf of Mirkwood? What will King Thranduil think of that?"

"Thranduil exiled me. His opinion of the matter is of no importance," Tauriel said impatiently. "Now, tell me the truth--why were we told that Kíli was dead?"

Dís's face seemed carved of stone as she said, "Treachery. The vilest of treachery, perpetrated by my own kin. You ask only of Kíli, and I understand that as your husband he is first in your thoughts. But I have been mourning two sons and a brother all this time, and now I barely dare to hope that all three may still live. If my treacherous kinsman spared Kíli, may I hope that Fíli and Thorin too have been spared? I know not, and so I live in terrible uncertainty."

Bilbo could not catch his breath. Holding a hand to his chest to keep his heart from leaping out of his throat, he asked, "Thorin may be alive?"

"Possibly. Dain's pet Healer has apparently been experimenting on Kíli with his vile concoctions."

Nori spoke up. "I found Kíli in a cell in the Healers' Halls, but if they're alive, Fíli and Thorin are being held elsewhere. There are areas of the mountain where even I cannot gain entrance. I'd say there's still hope, Master Burglar."

Spots swam before his vision. Bilbo was sure that if he were not already sitting down he would have fallen. "Thank you. Thank you."

"You seem rather more affected by this news than I would have expected, Halfling," Dís said.

"Thorin was...important to me."

"And yet you stole the Arkenstone and betrayed his trust."

"For pity's sake, leave off! Bilbo has been in mourning for a dead husband just as I have!" Tauriel snapped.

Bilbo froze, feeling his stomach churn. He could not believe that she had just that, and in front of Thorin's sister no less. Oh, stars above, he would never be able to look Dís in the eyes again.

He could not read the emotions in Dís's voice as she asked, "You and my brother were married?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No. No, we weren't." What an odd question. Were two men allowed to marry among the Dwarves?

"Did you lie together?"

Bilbo sputtered. "How could you ask--oh for pity's sake--I cannot answer that question! Not in front of ladies!"

"Why does my gender affect whether or not you will answer a simple question? No matter. Nori!"

The thief jumped. "Yes, your Highness?"

"Did my brother lie with the Halfling?"

Nori's eyes widened. "Well, in a word, ah--yes. Regular lovebirds, they were."

Bilbo sank down in his chair, certain that he could not possibly be more embarrassed. He seriously considered putting his magic ring on and running away, never to return.

Dís snorted, shaking her head. "I cannot fathom what happened on this journey that both Thorin and Kíli looked outside of their own race for love. Still, even I can admit that I must accept that what's done is done."

Standing, Dís crossed to Bilbo and placed her hands on his shoulders. Bilbo shrank back from her, unsure if she were about to kiss him (which seemed wildly unlikely) or kill him (rather more likely, he thought.)

Leaning forward, Dís brought their foreheads together. "Brother."

Bilbo gaped at her.

She placed her hands on Tauriel's shoulders. Tauriel's eyes were huge as Dís repeated the forehead touch. "Daughter."

Tauriel looked stunned.

Her face utterly expressionless, Dís returned to her chair, sitting down upon it as if it were a throne. "I do not know if Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin yet live, but I promise you that I will send swift messengers to Rivendell as soon as we know one way or the other."

"I am going with you," Tauriel said.

"I appreciate your offer--"

"You do not understand, it was not an offer. If you do not allow me to accompany you, then I will travel to Erebor on my own. My Kíli may be alive. I will not allow anything to stand in my way."

"Nor mine." Bilbo crossed his arms, glaring at Dís. "If you do not bring me with you then I will simply follow you all the way to Erebor. And you will never see me."

"He is very good at hiding," Nori said helpfully. "One of the best in the business."

Bilbo didn't bother to claim that he was _not_ in the business of burglary, thank you. Nori would only point out that what with him stealing the Arkenstone, that would be a complete and utter lie.

"Plus it's a husband or wife's right to attempt to rescue their spouse from captivity," Bofur said. He shrank away a little as Dís turned her very impressive glare on him. "Your Highness."

"It is our right," Tauriel said, picking up immediately on what Bofur had said. "You cannot deny us that."

Dís gritted her teeth. "Very well. I cannot deny that it is your right."

"I know better than to caution you against a dangerous course of action," Lord Elrond said to Tauriel. "But you must accept what protection I am able to provide for you."

"My lord, you do not need to--"

"You are of my House," Elrond said gently. "You will find that I protect my own." Tauriel seemed at a loss for words.

Dís's eyes narrowed. "If you must interfere with a Dwarvish matter...then supplies would be welcome."

"I will send you off with supplies, fresh ponies, and my sons Elladan and Elrohir."

"You wish us to bring Elves along? I mean, more Elves," Dís amended with a glance at Tauriel. "That is completely out of the question."

"You will find that they are excellent scouts and trackers, which you will need if you wish to cut across Mirkwood. That is the only reasonable way to reach Erebor from Imladris; the alternate routes would take you hundreds of miles out of your way."

Tauriel blanched. "I cannot enter Mirkwood. I have been exiled."

"We will simply have to sneak across as my brother and his Company did," Dís said.

"Yes, and we all saw how well that went," Nori said. "Well, we did!"

"I believe that I may have a solution to that problem." Elrond stood and crossed to a bookshelf, pulling a heavy tome from it and laying it on his desk so that he could flip through the pages. Glancing up from the tome, he said, "My recollection was correct. The Old Forest Road is neutral ground according to the treaties signed by King Thranduil and the Dwarves of the Iron Hills. He cannot bar Tauriel from crossing Mirkwood if she stays on the road."

"If I'm remembering my geography right, the Old Forest Road is awfully close to the Mountains of Mirkwood, is it not?" Bilbo was absolutely sure that he was correct--maps were his abiding passion, after all. "That's an awfully dangerous area, even for Mirkwood."

"You are not wrong." Dís eyed Elrond narrowly. "And so you will get your wish, Lord Elrond. We must accept your offer to send your sons with us, for we will need all the protection against the dangers of Mirkwood that we can muster."

Bilbo coughed anxiously. "Perhaps you could spare a dozen or so more warriors?"

Tauriel shook her head. "No. King Thranduil would take that as an act of aggression by Lord Elrond. Even bringing two Elves of Imladris into Mirkwood will anger the King if he hears of it."

"So this is our company, then," Dís said. "Three Dwarves, three Elves, and a Hobbit, attempting to cross Mirkwood undetected by King Thranduil."

"And what do we face on the other side of the forest?" Bilbo asked.

"Dain Ironfoot has stolen the throne of Erebor and rules by intimidation and subterfuge. His mysterious healer is performing experiments on my youngest son, and we do not know if my oldest son and my brother yet live." Dís shook her head. "There is no way to know what we will encounter in Erebor."

The faces of the gathered group looked grim.

"Well, it couldn't possibly be worse than sneaking into Erebor under the nose of a firebreathing dragon, could it?" Bilbo asked.

From the looks on their faces, his attempt to cheer them up had not been wildly successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> fae and rhaw - spirit and body (Sindarin terms for fëa and hröa)  
> mellon nín - my friend


	10. Leaving Rivendell

After how strained the first meeting with Dís had been, Bilbo would have expected the dinner that followed to be tense on the level of the stand-off at Erebor. However, Lord Elrond had not chosen to repeat his prank (if one could apply such a word to so august a personage) of serving a vegetarian meal to the Dwarves. The soporific effect of a delicious meal combined with a liberal hand with the wine went a long way towards diffusing the tension between Dwarves and Elves.

Elladan and Elrohir had joined them for dinner, sitting to Elrond's left while the place of honor to his right was reserved for Princess Dís. Poor Lindir was once again expected to stand beside Lord Elrond's shoulder during the entire meal. Bilbo could only assume that he was standing ready in case the Elf lord needed any minutes urgently taken during dinner. 

Based on Elladan's demeanor, Bilbo deduced that Elrond had explained the mission to his sons before dinner. Elladan spoke not a word outside of the usual courtesies, and though his face was blank of emotion Bilbo thought he seemed despondent. _Good_ , he thought a little meanly. Now that the Elf lord knew that Tauriel's husband was still alive, perhaps he would get over his apparent infatuation with her.

"Aren't we forgetting something rather important though?" Bilbo asked after the conversation shifted to practical matters regarding the journey to Erebor.

"Yes?" Elrond prompted.

"Will Tauriel not need a Healer along on this journey? I mean, that is why we traveled to Rivendell in the first place."

Dís frowned across the table at her new daughter-in-law. "You require a Healer? Why? Is the babe not healthy?"

"The baby is perfectly fine. Bilbo is simply being a mother hen," Tauriel sighed.

"The babe is healthy; however, Bilbo is not incorrect," Elrond said. "I would not advise you to make a long journey at this point without bringing along a skilled healer. That is why I am sending both Elladan and Elrohir with you. I have taught all my children the arts of healing, but it is Elrohir who has shown the greatest talent for it."

Elrohir glanced at his brother before appearing to realize that he needed to say something himself. "I will be honored to provide medical care for you during the journey, Lady Tauriel." 

Though he and his brother were perfectly identical in looks, Bilbo thought that he could tell them apart by the way they spoke. Elrohir spoke quietly and with a more measured tone than his self-confident brother.

Tauriel nodded to him gracefully. "You have my thanks, Lord Elrohir." 

Bilbo happened to glance up and catch the look of distress on Lindir's face at the announcement that Elrohir would be leaving with them. Oh dear. Still, they were Elves--even if the round-trip journey ended up taking several months, Thranduil had claimed that a hundred years was a mere eye-blink in the life of an Elf. Though speaking of that..."How long will the journey take?"

Nori spoke up. "Should take less than a month by pony, as long as we don't lose our way in Mirkwood again. I've traveled that route a few times myself. Fastest way to the Iron Hills from Ered Luin."

"Most caravans take the southern route through the Gap of Rohan," Bofur said. "It's safer, even if it is slower. Why would you risk the Old Forest Road?"

"I was in a hurry." Nori raised his braided eyebrows at him and Bofur laughed and shook his head. Bilbo wasn't entirely sure what the joke was.

"How likely are we to encounter Mirkwood troops on the Old Forest Road?" Dís asked this of Nori, but it was Tauriel who responded.

"Not terribly likely. King Thranduil has pulled the borders back substantially and now anything south of the Mountains is only rarely patrolled."

"And even if we do run into patrols, they usually just glare at you and tell you to stay on the road." Nori stroked his beard as he added, "Practically friendly of them--except for the drawn bows, of course."

***

As they walked back to their suite after dinner, Bilbo was very nearly knocked over by an Elf child running heedlessly down the stairs.

"I'm so sorry! _Goheno nín,_ " the child said, bowing hurriedly. On closer look, he proved to not be an Elf at all--his ears were rounded, not pointed. What was a child of Man doing in Rivendell?

"Oh, it's quite all right," Bilbo reassured him. "Just perhaps be more careful next time."

"I will be, I promise. Are you a Dwarf?" the boy asked with wide blue eyes. He had dark hair that was cut to shoulder-length, shorter than Elves tended to wear their hair, but he was dressed in the simple but rich clothing typical of the Elves of Rivendell.

"No, I am a Hobbit from the Shire. Bilbo Baggins is my name, and this is my friend Tauriel."

" _Mae g'ovannen_ , Bilbo and Tauriel," the boy said with a flawless accent--better than Bilbo's, in fact. "My name is Estel."

Tauriel smiled and waved her fingers awkwardly. " _Mae g'ovannen_ , Estel."

"I've never seen an Elf with red hair before," the boy said, staring up at Tauriel in wonder.

"I am a Silvan Elf, from Mirkwood. Red or red-brown hair is much more common among my people than the Noldor or Sindar Elves."

Estel appeared to find her fascinating. "Mirkwood? Is that far away? I've never been out of Imladris, except when I was very young but I don't remember it at all. Are you going to have a baby? Will the baby have red hair too?"

Tauriel blinked at him, seeming taken aback by the flood of information and questions. "Yes, Mirkwood is far away. It is on the other side of the Misty Mountains. And yes, I am going to have a baby. However, I do not know if the child will have red hair. My husband has black hair."

"Is your husband from Mirkwood too? I've never met any Elves from Mirkwood before. Lady Galadriel is from Loth--Lothlor..."

"Lothlorien," Tauriel supplied, smiling gently. "No, my husband is from Erebor. It is near Mirkwood."

"I want to see Mirkwood and Lothlorien someday," the boy said wistfully. "Mother says I can't go on adventures yet because I'm too young, but I think eleven is old enough for adventures, don't you?"

"I am afraid that I must defer to your mother's judgement in this matter, Estel. But I am sure you will have many adventures when you are grown," Tauriel said with a smile.

"I hope so," Estel sighed. "I should go, my mother is waiting for me. _Sílo Anor bo men lín._ "

Tauriel and Bilbo returned the farewell and Estel bowed to them before trotting away.

They finished their walk in companionable silence. "You seemed comfortable talking with Estel," Bilbo said as they entered their suite. "I know you were worried about being a parent, but I think you'll do better at it than you had feared."

"He is not too much younger than the apprentices I have trained. I know how to deal with children of that age as a teacher. It is everything else that I am worried about."

"You will do fine," he said with a reassuring pat to her hand. "And if you run into trouble, perhaps you can reach out to Princess Dís for advice. She has raised two children, after all."

Tauriel gave him an incredulous look. "Princess Dís would as soon shove me off a cliff as give me motherly advice, were it not for the fact that I'm carrying her grandchild."

"Now then, I think that's a bit of an exaggeration. I know there has been bad blood--yes, including war--between your peoples in the past, but you have a real chance here to move beyond the old grudges and forge a lasting alliance between your races."

She smiled at him fondly. "You are an optimist, _mellon nín_. I hope that all will turn out as well as you believe."

"Well, if we can get through Mirkwood without starting a war that will be a good start. First things first, as my Grandmother Baggins always used to say."

"She sounds like a wise and practical woman."

"Yes, yes she was. That's the Baggins side of the family, mind you. My Grandmother Took had somewhat different advice for her grandchildren."

"Which was?"

"Full speed ahead, just try not to get anyone killed or burn down the house." He shrugged, feeling his mouth turn up in a smile. "I'm afraid I've been living rather more by the Took approach than the Baggins, ever since Gandalf sent a baker's dozen of Dwarves to my door."

Tauriel retreated to their private balcony then and Bilbo puttered around in the common room of the suite for a bit, giving her some time to be alone. He had learned over the time they had spent as unexpected roommates that she needed quiet time by herself just as much as he himself did. It was a relief, after a lifetime of being considered an odd duck by the rest of the Shire, to have a friend who understood that time spent being quiet together and thinking could be just as rewarding as a good conversation.

He poked his head out into the hallway and requested a pot of tea from one of the servants who always seemed to be available whenever a guest needed something. Soon enough he would miss the ability to order tea whenever he wanted it, Bilbo thought with a sigh. He loved seeing new places, but spending weeks traveling by pony was still not one of his favorite things.

The tray that the servant brought held a variety of tiny cakes and delicate pastries in addition to the requested pot of tea. Giving the servant effusive thanks as he took the tray, Bilbo happily sniffed the mingled scents of tea and sugar. He really would miss Rivendell.

"Tea is served," he announced as he brought the tray out to the balcony and placed it on the table.

"Is it not a bit late for tea?" Tauriel asked with a teasing smile.

Bilbo stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels. "It's never too late for tea, my dear! Both my Grandmother Baggins and my Grandmother Took claimed that tea would cure any ill if drunk in large enough quantities."

"Far be it from me to dispute something that _both_ such wise women agreed upon."

Bilbo snorted quietly and busied himself pouring the tea.

Tauriel's voice was quiet and subdued as she asked, "Do you think they're really still alive?"

"I think..." Bilbo set down the teapot and sat down, picking up his teacup and concentrating hard on stirring in a spoonful of honey. "I think that I cannot allow myself to truly believe that Thorin is still alive until I see him with my own two eyes. I can't...I couldn't bear to start hoping again only to be disappointed. My heart couldn't take it."

Cradling her teacup between her palms, she stared up at the stars twinkling high above them. "I understand. Seeing Kíli's spirit was both wonderful and torturous."

"You said that you haven't seen him at all for several months?"

"No. I fear for him--what would cause him to disappear so suddenly after appearing to me almost daily for a number of weeks? Why would he be unable to return?" She shook her head sharply. "I cannot bear to think on it."

"My dear, I want to tell you that everything will turn out just fine... but I fear it would ring more than a little false, under the circumstances."

"I know, but...I have to believe that Kili is alive. He is alive, and we will be reunited."

"I'm sure that he is," Bilbo said, although in truth he was certain of nothing at all. She smiled ruefully at him, seeming to understand the words he had left unspoken. 

***

Every time that she walked by the cells that the Dwarves were being held in, Tauriel noticed that the black-haired archer she had saved from the spiders kept staring at her. 

She continued making her rounds, trying not to look back at him. Why was he staring? Had he not seen red hair before? No, that wasn't it--one of the other Dwarves had an impressively bushy red beard and hair of the same color. Had he not seen an Elf woman before? That was possible, but she was not the only woman among the guards.

She shook her head and tried to put it out of her mind. In the end, it did not matter why the Dwarf was staring at her. He was only a prisoner.

Still, he was quite tall for a Dwarf. She thought he might reach her shoulder--admittedly not that impressive an accomplishment, since even for a Silvan Elf she was on the short side.

Why was she still thinking about him? Tauriel determinedly put him out of her mind and focused on her duties. Patrolling the Palace was not particularly challenging (or interesting), but until King Thranduil chose to send out another scouting party, here she would remain.

Later that same night, the next time her rounds took her past the prisoners, the black-haired Dwarf asked her name. Bold of him, she thought, not letting any trace of a smile escape as she answered, "Captain."

"Captain, that's a nice name." The mischievous look in his eyes assured her that he was only joking. "My name's Kíli."

Tauriel moved on without acknowledging him. There was no reason for her to call him anything but "prisoner." 

The next night, he asked, "Do you think we might get a chance to stretch our legs some time?"

"I am not assigned to guard you. You will have to ask that of the guards who are tasked with guarding the cells."

The following night, he asked, "So if you're not assigned to us, then why do you keep walking through night after night?"

"I guard the Palace. These cells are part of the Palace, and thus part of my rounds."

"I am surprised that you're not still out there killing giant spiders. Having you guard the Palace seems a bit of a waste after seeing you in action against them."

Tauriel said nothing, suspicious that he might be trying to glean information about their border patrols.

The next night he said with all appearance of sincerity, "That was very impressive, how you took out all those giant spiders. Thank you for saving my life, by the way."

It would be rude not to acknowledge him. "I was simply doing my duty."

"Your bow has an interesting curve to it. It's not like a normal longbow or double-curve bow," he said, gesturing to indicate the shapes. "I haven't seen a bow shaped quite like yours before."

She hesitated, about to move on without a word. But it wouldn't hurt anything to talk about bows, would it? "It is a moon bow. They are traditional among my people."

"How do you shape it? Is it formed from several pieces of wood, or only one?"

They ended up talking for what felt like half an hour, but could have been longer. It was not that the Forest Guard was short on people who were enthusiastic about bows, but she found it intriguing to talk to someone who came from an entirely different archery tradition.

And if she enjoyed the way Kíli's eyes lit up with enthusiasm and the way he smiled when he was talking about a subject he clearly loved, well...that had nothing to do with it.

The next night they talked about hunting, and on the following night he told her about some of the places he had visited. 

Almost without her noticing, it became a nightly ritual: she would complete her rounds of the Palace and then stop by Kíli's cell to talk for a while about whatever subject caught their mutual interest. She steered clear of any topic that might give the Dwarves too much information about the Woodland Realm and she was sure he censored what he said about certain subjects as well, but strangely enough they almost seemed to be becoming friends.

Legolas called her name one night about three weeks after they had captured the Dwarves, as she started down the hall that led to the Kili's cell. "I would speak with you, Tauriel."

"Of course, _mellon_." She adjusted her course and they walked together in silence for a few minutes. It was clear that he was troubled by something, so she kept silent and waited for him to speak in his own time.

"Tauriel, I have noticed that you have been spending a great deal of time in conversation with one of the Dwarves. This worries me."

"Why so? I promise you that I have told him nothing of import. We have spoken only of trivial matters."

"I know that you are not one who would unwarily share our secrets through idle chatter, _mellon nín_. Still, it concerns me that you have become friendly with this Dwarf."

"Why?"

"Dwarves are selfish, greedy, and untrustworthy. I would not see your friendship taken advantage of by one of them."

Tauriel stopped walking and waited for him to turn to face her. "Am I a silly child, to be taken in by shallow blandishments? Have you ever known me to give my trust foolishly?"

He had the grace to look abashed. "No."

"Then trust that I have the ability to make my own decisions regarding who I will speak to."

This seemed to please him not at all, though he did not argue any further. 

Tauriel stared after Legolas as he stalked away. What had gotten into him? He knew her better than anyone else; she had tagged along after him, pestering him for attention, as a child and they had been inseparable ever since she had become old enough to join the Guard. Why would he react so negatively to her tentative friendship with Kíli?

Tauriel shook her head and tried to put it out of her mind for now. Doubtless she and Legolas would speak more on the subject later. She would be patient and wait for him to come to her. Pushing Legolas on anything rarely led to the desired result.

The thought of her strange conversation with Legolas was still at the back of her mind when she stopped by Kíli's cell that evening. He was playing with a stone she had not seen before, tossing it in the air and catching it again.

She asked him what it was and he answered with a story so patently ludicrous that she turned to walk away without another word. What had gotten into Legolas and Kíli that they were both acting so strangely tonight?

Sounding slightly apologetic, Kíli called her back and told her a story that sounded much more likely: that the runestone had been a gift from his mother so that he would remember his promise to return to her.

Tauriel felt a shiver of guilt run down her spine when he said that. How long did King Thranduil intend to keep the Dwarves prisoner? They had been trespassing in the Woodland Realm, true enough, but the threatened hundred years of imprisonment seemed an excessive punishment for their crime.

Still, Thranduil was a wise King and Tauriel did not even claim to understand the subtleties of his thoughts. Doubtless he had some stratagem in mind.

A brief mention of the celebration echoing from the upper halls of the Palace led, in the meandering way of late-night conversations, to Tauriel attempting to explain to Kíli the deep spiritual significance of starlight to the Silvan Elves. She thought he might understand, at least a little, for in return he told her of the beauty of the Fire Moon he had seen rising over a pass in the mountains.

She had always been told that all that Dwarves cared about was gems and precious metals, counting out their riches hunched over like toads in their dark halls in the mountains. She knew now that was wrong, for Kíli clearly felt the same wonder and reverence for the natural world as she did. 

Kíli's dark eyes flashed and his big hands gestured expressively as he spoke. She remembered the feeling of standing on the bluffs far above the Long Lake and imagining she could step off them and walk up into the sky on a road made of starlight. She thought if she told that to him, Kíli would understand what she meant.

At that moment, listening to Kíli describing the way the moon had looked that night in Dunland, Tauriel had a sudden and disturbing realization. She didn't just feel an odd sense of camaraderie and tentative friendship with Kíli, as she had been telling herself.

She was terribly in danger of falling in love with him.

***

They set out for Erebor only three days after the Dwarves arrived in Rivendell. Despite the short time for preparation, Lord Elrond had supplied them with ponies for the Dwarves and Bilbo, a horse for Tauriel, and pack ponies loaded down with food and supplies for the journey.

Lainiel had called upon Bilbo and Tauriel the evening before they departed to present them with beautifully crafted leather jacks, comfortable and easy to maneuver in and yet proof against arrows and swords.

Bilbo's jack resembled a waistcoat in design, sleeveless and easily worn under his coat so that it would be even less obvious as a piece of armor. Remembering that he had once mentioned in passing around Lainiel that he had felt frankly ridiculous in the flashy armor the Master of Lake-Town had gifted them, Bilbo felt deeply touched by the tailor's thoughtfulness. (His mithril coat he had left in Bag End, unable to bear looking at Thorin's gift after...after everything.)

Tauriel's jack resembled her Mirkwood armor, made in shades of green and brown with a curling motif of leaves and vines. The adjustable plates of armor which covered her belly had been cunningly crafted to easily expand as her pregnancy progressed. Bilbo could only guess that Lainiel had begun the work weeks ago, for it seemed impossible that even an Elven Master Tailor could create such beautiful and functional pieces in three days.

Tauriel had blushed and stammered when Lainiel had presented her with the armor, seeming almost on the verge of tears at her kindness. "I cannot repay you--"

"This is a gift, child. If you feel that you must repay me in some way, how about keeping that nobleman whom my grandson has foolishly fallen in love with alive?" She smiled and patted Tauriel's hand, then wished them a safe journey.

Now Bilbo spotted Lindir lurking in the shadow of a portico, furtively watching Elrohir as the travelers performed last-minute checks on their horses' gear. "Lindir, aren't you going to wish us a safe journey?" he called, feeling a mischievous urge to match-make.

Lindir looked appalled that attention had been drawn to him. "Of course," he said, leaving his lurking spot to stand by Bilbo's pony. "I simply did not wish to get in the way. _Sílo Anor bo men lín_ , Master Bilbo and Lady Tauriel, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir."

Elladan gave him a perfunctory bow but he seemed distracted by his thoughts. Bilbo could guess at the nature of them, considering the pensive looks the Elf lord kept giving to Tauriel whenever her back was turned.

"Thank you, Lindir," Elrohir said with a bow that seemed to Bilbo just a touch deeper than politeness called for. There was meaningful eye-contact and the two Elves seemed to be on the verge of having a moment, so Bilbo discreetly guided Tauriel away with his hand on her elbow. (Fortunately, she was short enough--for an Elf--that he did not need to stand on his tiptoes in order to reach her elbow.)

"What is it?" she asked once they had reached a polite distance.

"I only wanted to give Elrohir and Lindir a little privacy."

She looked amused. "You are match-making, _mellon_."

Bilbo pretended to brush some dust off his coat. "Perhaps I am. What of it?"

"I think it is sweet." Bilbo had the distinct impression that if she were any less reserved about displays of affection, she might have hugged him. "It is good to see you enjoying things again."

"Yes, well." Bilbo cleared his throat. "I will admit that I may have been somewhat despondent when you came to Bag End. Have I ever told you how glad I am that you thought to come to me when you needed help, even though we had only known each other for a handful of days?"

"A handful of days in the middle of a war can create stronger bonds than years together in more peaceful times. Besides, you covered for us when Kíli and I needed time together. I knew if anyone understood, it would be you."

Bilbo smiled somewhat painfully. "It was good to see something hopeful and pure after everything that had happened with...with Thorin."

"Bilbo," she said quietly. "If Thorin is alive then I am sure that he regrets what he did to you that day."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I cannot think about it right now. I'm sorry."

"Of course." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "If you ever need to talk about it, know that I will listen."

"Thank you, my dear." They shared a quiet, sad smile, a bubble of quiet in the hustle and bustle of the courtyard, before Tauriel was called away to take a look at something having to do with her horse. 

Left alone, Bilbo reached into his waistcoat pocket and ran his thumb over the smooth edges of his ring. The familiar feeling of his ring helped chase away the anxiety he felt about facing Thorin again after his reaction to Bilbo revealing that he had stolen the Arkenstone. 

He tried not to think of the way the ground had looked so far away when he had thrown a terrified glance over his shoulder. Thorin had held him by the lapels of his coat, his grip the only thing keeping Bilbo from falling to his death. The cold gleam of anger and hatred in Thorin's eyes as he had shaken him like a cat with a rat in its mouth...that was the thing Bilbo couldn't forget.

Bilbo shook his head firmly and straightened his shoulders. This was not the time to dwell on all that. He would let himself think about it all later, but for now there was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> goheno nín - forgive me  
> mae g'ovannen - you are well met  
> sílo Anor bo men lín - may the sun shine on your road
> 
> ***
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> I am using Aragorn's book canon age rather than the age given for him in the movies. Thus Aragorn was 10 years old during the events of The Hobbit, not in his twenties as the movies have stated.
> 
> Regarding bow terminology, Tauriel's bow appears to be a reflex bow rather than a recurve bow. I used the term "moon bow" for reflex bow and "double-curve bow" for recurve bow because the modern terms seemed a little out of place.


	11. The Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief violence including minor character death.

Fíli blinked his eyes open slowly. They felt sticky and sandy and his head hurt as if he'd drunk too much ale the night before.

Blearily, he tried to figure out where he was. The surface he was lying on felt softer than a bedroll. He could see grey stone walls, plain and unornamented, with no windows or doors that he could see from this angle.

He felt terribly weak. It was all that he could do to turn his head to the side in order to find the source of the labored, raspy breathing coming from nearby. Uncle Thorin lay on a cot not far from him. His skin looked waxy and too pale, almost as white as the bandages wrapped around his head and chest. 

Thorin was alive! But where was Kíli?

Fíli tried propping himself up on his elbows to look around the room and promptly passed out.

Consciousness was a fickle and inconstant thing for the next several days, orperhaps weeks. He was never sure how much time passed between periods of wakefulness. There was a healer present in the room sometimes, but he was as unlike the old healer Óin as solid granite and crumbling sandstone. This healer looked at Fíli like he was an insect and never answered any of his questions. 

_Where is my brother? What's wrong with Uncle Thorin? What happened after the battle? Who is in charge? Where is my brother, where is Kíli? Answer me, damn you!_

Whenever Fíli got too loud with his demands or showed signs of being recovered enough to get out of bed, the healer would have a guard hold him down and pour a phial of liquid down his throat. Whatever was in that potion, it knocked him out and left Fíli feeling lethargic and confused when he awoke.

For all his questionable ethics, the healer tended Thorin's injuries daily, changing his bandages and feeding him broth spiked with willow bark whenever his fever rose. Whoever was holding them wanted both Fíli and Thorin alive, it seemed.

For what purpose, though? The guards had Iron Hills accents, but that didn't explain why they were keeping him and Thorin prisoner. They were clearly prisoners here, not patients. The one door to the room was kept locked and guarded at all times.

Where was Kíli? Fíli didn't want to imagine why his little brother might not be with them.

What had happened after the battle? Who was in charge of Erebor? He was sure it couldn't be their cousin Dáin in charge, despite the Iron Hills accents of their captors. Dáin was said to be an honorable Dwarf, though Thorin had cursed his penny-pinching ways when he refused to back their expedition. He would never allow this sort of thing to go on under his rule.

And so he continued to believe until the day Dáin walked into the room they were imprisoned in.

Fíli was still in the process of recovering from one of the healer's potions, which turned out to be fortunate because his first impulse had been to sit up and demand an explanation from Dáin. His body was responding so sluggishly to his commands that he hadn't even managed to move a muscle by the time he noticed that Dáin was speaking to the healer as if he knew him.

Fíli kept his eyes to barely-open slits and watched through his eyelashes as they spoke. Dáin was wearing something on his chest that seemed to glow with an inner light. Fíli almost gave himself away by twitching with shock as he realized that his cousin was actually wearing the Arkenstone set into a necklace. The King's jewel! No one had the right to wear that stone but the rightful King of Erebor. If Uncle Thorin was too injured to take up command then the crown would pass to Fíli, his named heir, not to Dáin.

"Thorin Oakenshield's wounds are well on their way to healing, my lord. Physically, he has almost entirely recovered from his ordeal."

Fíli wanted to ask if that was the case, then why hadn't Thorin awakened yet? But he kept his mouth shut, wanting to get as much information as he could while they still thought he was asleep.

"His state of mind, however..." the healer trailed off.

"Does he still have the gold-sickness?" Dáin asked.

"My lord, I fear that he may always suffer from it to some extent. I will do what I can to mitigate the damage the gold-sickness has done to both Thorin and his nephews. However, we do need to face the possibility that their condition is permanent."

Dáin thought that they all suffered from gold-sickness? Fíli knew, though it was painful to admit it, that Uncle Thorin had been in the throes of gold-sickness induced madness by the time the battle had happened. A mentally well Thorin would never have dangled Bilbo over the battlements, even after the Hobbit's apparent betrayal. But Fíli and Kíli had certainly never been affected by it. Surely if he told Dáin that, his cousin would free them.

"Cousin Dáin." His voice was so raspy that he barely recognized it himself.

"Cousin Fíli," Dáin said, putting his hand on Fíli's shoulder with an affectionate smile. "It's good to see you awake! Finally slept long enough, eh, slugabed?"

"The healer--" Fíli had to break off and cough. Dáin thumped him helpfully on the back, which only made him cough harder.

"Skalgar's been working day and night keeping you alive. Without his help, I'm afraid we'd have lost you all, laddie."

The healer looked at Fíli with a warm smile and cold, reptilian eyes. He had snowy white hair worn in a healer's braids and a demeanor of counterfeit kindness. "It was my duty and my pleasure, my lord. Now, do not overstress yourself, Fíli. You have been through quite an ordeal."

"I'm fine." With an effort, Fíli propped himself up on his elbow. "Where is my brother?"

"Your brother's condition was quite serious," Skalgar answered even though the question had been addressed to Dáin. "We have put him in a private room for his own protection."

Fíli sagged with relief to hear that Kíli was alive. "Can I see him?"

"I'm afraid that isn't a good idea," the healer said.

"Cousin Dáin, you must see that I'm fine. Please let me see my brother."

Dáin looked momentarily troubled. He lifted a hand to the Arkenstone and stroked it as if for reassurance. The doubt went out of his expression and Fíli would swear that there was a slight tinge of unearthly blue to his eyes as he said, "Skalgar knows healing like I know war-hogs. If he says you need to be kept apart from your brother, I trust he knows what he's doing."

"Please, cousin," Fíli pleaded as Dáin walked to the door. "You have to let me see my brother."

"Not until Skalgar says you're ready. I'm sorry, laddie. You'll see it's for the best." The stone door swung shut behind him, leaving the healer and one of the guards behind.

"That wasn't smart," the healer said pleasantly. "You need to learn to cooperate or it will go badly for you."

The healer had one of his guards hold Fíli down while he poured a potion down his throat.

When Fíli awoke, he found that he had been moved to what was clearly a prison cell, not a healing room. The door was barred, much like the Elvenking's cells in Mirkwood had been. There was no sign of Thorin and the cell across the hallway from him was empty. Where was Thorin? What was going on in Erebor?

Shouting until he was hoarse produced no results. No one even came by to tell him to shut up. Fíli sat down on the bed--a simple pallet in an alcove of the room--and took stock of the situation.

Dáin had known that they were being held and believed that he, Kíli, and Thorin were all affected by the gold-sickness. Was Dáin being controlled or influenced in some way by the healer, Skalgar? It seemed the only reasonable answer.

Dáin had said that he could see his brother when Skalgar said he was ready. Fíli clung to that as proof that Kíli was still alive. That any of them were still breathing seemed to Fíli to be a sign that perhaps the healer's control over Dáin was not absolute. Perhaps the healer could convince Dáin that they were gold-sick and needed to be imprisoned for their own safety, but he could not convince an honorable Dwarf to murder his own kin.

That meant that they had time. Given enough time perhaps Fíli could figure out some way out of the cell. With that in mind, he searched the room for any means of escape.

The search didn't take long. The bars of the door were made of fine Dwarven craftsmanship, not that spindly decorative junk in Mirkwood which had only stood up to their pounding on the bars because of the Elves' spells. There was no breaking through these bars. The hole in the floor for doing the necessary was far too small for Fíli to squeeze through. The pallet's alcove was built directly into the stone of the walls.

Fíli sat down on the pallet again, frustrated and worried that he would not be able to escape on his own. He might have to wait and hope that perhaps the Company would come to their rescue.

Unless they too had been taken prisoner. Or worse, if they had not survived the battle...

Fíli shook his head. He had to shove those fears aside or else they would consume him. No, the Company was still free and everyone had survived the battle. He would not allow himself to think otherwise.

Did everyone think that Thorin, Kíli, and he were dead? Fíli rested his head in his hands at the realization that someone had almost certainly sent ravens to Ered Luin with news of the battle. Their mother probably thought that he and Kíli were dead.

He had to get out of here, or failing that at least get word to their mother somehow that they still lived. She had lived through so much loss in her life already, he couldn't bear to think of her believing that her sons and remaining brother were dead too.

***

Days passed and still Fíli was no closer to figuring out an escape plan. The cell bars were solid and there was no tunneling his way out of Dwarven stonework. He was in one of six identical cells, placed three on either side of a short hallway, with a solid locked door at the end of the hallway. He didn't know exactly where the prison was in Erebor, but he was sure that he'd been buried as deep in the prison cells as they could get him.

The guards brought him food and water twice a day--plain fare, but nourishing. He supposed he should be grateful that they weren't feeding him kitchen slops. Dáin wanted them alive and seemed to care about their living conditions. Perhaps the next time he visited, Fíli could try to play upon his cousin's loyalty. 

But Dáin did not return. 

There appeared to be two guards assigned to him, or at least there were only two different guards who brought his meals. The morning guard had an Iron Hills accent and an air of incipient violence to him. Fíli walked carefully around that one, since he seemed more likely to give a prisoner a beating than an actual answer to any questions. 

The evening guard had shale-dark skin and brown hair worn in a multitude of thin braids. She had a trace of an accent Fíli thought was probably Haradrim. He guessed she might be from one of the Dwarven clans who had settled long ago in the far southern mountains. She spoke to Fíli with brisk and efficient courtesy and carried herself with the calm confidence of a warrior who has seen many battles.

Clearly the Haradrim guard was his best bet if he planned to try to befriend one of them. She wasn't likely to be personally loyal to the healer, nor did she look at Fíli like she was just waiting for an excuse to kill him. Also, Fíli excelled at charming women, if he did say so himself.

His efforts at charming her were met with a raised eyebrow and an amused-looking slant to her mouth. It was a start, Fíli thought, and doubled his efforts at flirting with her as best he could whenever she was on duty.

After a few days of this, she said, "While your attempts to charm your guard into letting you go are entertaining, I feel that I must let you know that they are doomed to failure. I would no sooner dally with you than with a goat." Despite the harshness of her words, her voice was not unkind.

"Why not? I'm a good bit more attractive than a goat. Better conversationalist too," Fíli said with a winning smile.

"Because I prefer the love of women. Do you really think they would be so foolish as to set someone who would fall for your charms to watch you?"

Fíli was fairly sure he'd just been complimented. "So if I were a woman you'd have found me charming?"

"Perhaps." Fíli preened a little until she added, "I suppose you might be an acquired taste." She smirked at him as Fíli's flattered smile died.

"I most definitely am not--I mean, I'm quite appealing to the ladies! Just not to you, I guess."

"Certainly, if that makes you feel better to believe," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away.

"But you would have found me quite charming if I were female, I promise you!" Fíli called after her, smiling as he heard her laughing under her breath. 

He might not be able to charm her quite the way he would normally go about with a woman, but simply the fact that she had spoken to him and laughed at his joke was a good sign. It meant she thought of him as a person, not just a prisoner. Fíli could work with that.

"What's your name?" he asked the next night.

"What does it matter?"

"Well, I could make one up, but I don't think you'd appreciate that."

Looking unwillingly amused, she told him, "My name is Tofa."

"I am Fíli, son of Dís of the line of Durin, sister-son to Thorin Oakenshield, and I am at your service," Fíli said with a bow.

Her eyes narrowed. "You dishonor the dead with your lies. Even an outsider like me knows that Thorin Oakenshield's sister-sons fell with him on the field of battle."

"I am not a liar. I swear to you that I am Fíli, son of Dís and Víli, and I have been wrongfully imprisoned. Dáin is a usurper. He stole the throne of Erebor and somehow convinced everyone that we were dead."

She frowned at him, looking unconvinced. "Anyone can claim to be a prince--"

"I swear on Mahal's hammer and forge that I am telling the truth. May the stone crumble beneath my feet if I am not. You must help me escape and rescue my uncle Thorin Oakenshield and my brother Kíli."

Her eyes widened briefly and he saw her glance at his feet as if expecting the cell floor to swallow him up. "Well," she said after a moment. "Even if you are one of the dead princes, that's none of my concern. King Dáin's coin fills my purse, and so it is with him that my loyalties lie."

Fíli's temper flared. "Is coin all you care about? Have you no honor, that your loyalty can be bought so easily?"

"I have honor, princeling." She crossed her arms, glaring at him as she spoke. "You may think that a mercenary is loyal to nothing and no one, but that is not true. A good mercenary is loyal to their contract and their employer. Without that, we're nothing but the brigands and thugs you think we are."

The outer door to the cell block clanged shut behind her.

Fíli scrubbed the heels of his hands across his face. Mahal, he was an _idiot_. He wished Balin were here. Balin would have talked her around to their side in no time. Fíli would be lucky if she ever spoke to him again. Say goodbye to his best chance of escape--he'd blunted that axe but good.

He tried to bury the ever-present worry about his brother and his uncle. If he thought too much about it he'd go mad. Dáin had kept Fíli alive for this long; he must have enough of the real Dáin left in him not to murder his own kin in cold blood. Thorin and Kíli were _just fine_. They had to be.

"Hold on, little brother," he whispered. "I'll get us all out of this, I swear." _Somehow_...

***

The next night she brought his food and turned to leave without saying a word. 

Fíli sprang to his feet and said urgently, "Tofa, I apologize. I should not have said that your loyalty could be bought."

She crossed her arms as she turned to face him, but Fíli thought she didn't look nearly as angry as she had been the night before. "I'm a mercenary. Strictly speaking, my loyalty _can_ be bought. Just...not when I'm already under contract."

There was a slight smile playing around her lips as she finished speaking and Fíli took heart from that. He hadn't completely ruined any chance of friendship with her.

"Will you still speak with me? Please? The other guard doesn't talk to me--and quite honestly I'm afraid of him--and there's only so long I can spend sleeping or staring at the ceiling."

She paused, her eyes narrowed, and then nodded sharply. "Very well."

"Let's start over again. I am Fíli of the Blue Mountains, and I am at your service."

"Tofa of nowhere in particular. At your service, but only if it doesn't violate my current contract." She smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.

Fíli laughed out loud at that. "I'm sorry that I questioned your honor before," he said, gesturing an apology. "I understand that you're loyal to your employer."

"I am sensing that a "however" is coming."

He paused, trying to decide if he should push her again so soon. She made an impatient "go on with it" gesture at him.

"Tofa, this is more important than you know. Dáin is holding prisoner the rightful heir of Durin and holder of the Arkenstone. With the Arkenstone found, Thorin can command the seven armies of the Dwarf kings and unite our people..." Fíli trailed off as she started laughing. "What?"

"The seven armies of the Dwarf kings," she repeated mockingly. "As if those kingdoms still exist. You northerners truly have no idea of anything outside your little world."

"What do you mean?"

"There are no Dwarven kingdoms outside of the north, not anymore. The Dwarves of the south are scattered to the winds, and as for the Dwarves of the east...no one knows what has become of them."

That couldn't be right. There were seven Dwarven kingdoms, everyone knew that. But if that was wrong...then the Iron Hills, Erebor, and the scattered settlements of the Blue Mountains might be all that was left of their ancient kingdoms. Fíli shuddered, feeling a chill run down his spine at the thought. "What happened to your people?"

"War, for the most part. War with Orcs, with Men, with each other..." she sighed. "It matters not. I am loyal to Dáin for as long as my contract lasts, and you will not escape on my watch. Besides, even if you managed to escape you'd be hunted down like a dog by Skalgar's men."

"Skalgar's men." Fíli's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Not Dáin's men?"

She shrugged. "Everyone outside of the King's halls may think that Dáin is in charge, but those of us on the inside know better. It is Skalgar who holds the true power here."

"Who is he? Where did he come from? How does he wield such power?"

"I don't know and I am not foolish enough to ask. Neither will you, if you value your life."

And that was all she would say on the subject.

Over the following few nights he learned that Tofa had come to Erebor chasing the rumored rivers of gold. Instead, she had found a city struggling under heavy taxes while the wealthy lived like kings. It was one more piece of evidence to Fíli that something was very wrong with Dáin, whom he'd always heard was a bit of a blowhard but certainly no tyrant.

She shook her head, sighing. "I was hoping to settle here for a few years but now I think I will need to move on once the snow melts off the high passes. Maybe I'll head west to the Blue Mountains."

"That's where we're from. Me and my brother Kíli. They're lovely mountains, even if the mining's not much to write home about. Friendly folks there too, mostly anyways." He bit his lip, weighing the risk of angering her again versus the chance to find out where Kíli was being held. "Have you seen my brother? Is he well? I just need to know if he's alright, that's all."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"How can you not know? Isn't he here too?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but...there is no one else being held in this section of the prison."

Fíli wrapped his hands around the bars of his cell, wishing for the strength to rip them right out of the floor. "You have to find out where he's being held."

"I have already told you that I will not help you escape. I don't care if your uncle is the rightful king of Erebor--"

"No, that--that doesn't even matter. Tofa, please. If you had a younger brother, could you stand not knowing where he is or if he's safe?"

A flash of some dark emotion crossed her face as she looked away. "No," she said quietly. Her face was composed when she looked up at him again. "I'll see if I can find out if he's well. That's it, though. Nothing more."

"That's all I ask. Just to know if he's alright. Thank you."

"I'll check around after my shift ends at dawn and let you know what I find out tomorrow night."

He waited impatiently for the next night, the hours crawling like insects. Once she returned, he leapt to his feet, asking, "Did you find him?"

"Not yet. You must be patient," was her answer for several nights. "I can't be too obvious about this or I'll end up in a cell next to yours, or worse."

Fíli bit back his frustration. The hours dragged every day as he waited for nightfall for her to return.

Finally, one night when he'd almost given up asking, her answer was, "Your brother is alive."

Fíli's heart tried to leap out of his throat. There was a tightness to her eyes that made him worried. "But? There's more, I can tell. What is it?"

"He's being held in the Healers' Halls. The guard I spoke to said he's been unconscious more often than not, and even when he's awake, he seems..."

"Seems what? Tofa, how does he seem?"

"Untethered." She looked reluctant to add more.

"What do you mean? Tell me."

"He speaks to people who are not there and seems to barely notice his surroundings. I am sorry, but from what I have heard it sounds as if your brother has lost his grip on sanity."

"No." Fíli shook his head and kept shaking it as he repeated, "No. Kíli is a dreamer, true enough, but he has never shown signs of madness."

Her voice was surprisingly gentle as she asked, "Would you have known the signs if you saw them?"

"Yes. My grandfather and great-grandfather..." Fíli closed his eyes briefly and swallowed down the fear her words had awakened. "Both of them went mad. Believe me when I say that I would never ignore those signs, especially in my brother. No, there must be some other reason for Kíli's behavior. The healer drugged me to keep me docile. Maybe he's drugging Kíli too."

"That is possible," she said slowly.

"Tofa, I know you said you wouldn't help me escape but you must see that Kíli needs to be rescued. What if it were your younger brother who was being held prisoner?"

That flash of dark emotion crossed her face again, followed closely by anger. "Don't presume to play on my emotions. I've brought you the news you wanted and that's more than I should have done." Clearly reining in her anger, she added, "I am sorry about your brother, Fíli. For what it's worth, the guard said that he's sound in body even if not in mind." The outer door to the cells closed quietly behind her as she left.

He flung himself onto the bed and covered his eyes with his palms. Kíli, talking thin air like a madman. 

Fíli had been a quiet, observant child, good at finding hiding places and remaining unnoticed. He'd often eavesdropped on their mother and Uncle Thorin talking about the old days when they were in their cups. The good nights were when they laughed about youthful misdeeds or reminisced about their brother Frerin when he was alive. 

On the bad nights, when the cold shadows of winter closed in around their little house, Thorin and Dís would huddle together as they talked about Thrór's gold-madness and Thráin's disastrous refusal to face the realities of their exile. The fear that they only spoke of in the depths of their cups, in the silent dark hours before dawn, was that the line of Durin had been cursed by madness.

_Maybe we are cursed_ , Fíli thought. 

No. No, it had to be the healer's noxious potions, that was all. If Fíli could get him out of here, Kíli would be right as rain in no time.

***

The sound of the outer door to the cell block opening startled Fíli out of a troubled sleep.

He blinked against the darkness but even to a Dwarf the complete lack of light was impenetrable. Whoever had opened the outer door wasn't carrying a lamp, which the guards normally did. That was enough out of the ordinary that all trace of grogginess fled from Fíli's mind.

He heard the quiet noise of the door swinging shut and then someone whispered, "Fíli?"

Fíli was so familiar with the layout of the cell after weeks of captivity that he did not stumble even in the pitch darkness as he rushed to the cell door. "Yes! Yes, it's me! Who's there?"

"Ori." A quiet scrape of metal was the only warning he had before Fíli was almost blinded by the light of a hooded lantern being opened. "It is you! Oh, I was so worried that I'd get it wrong and the prisoner they were guarding here would be someone else, a murderer or something--"

"Ori! Stop babbling and tell me what's going on. Where is the rest of the Company? Have you found Kíli? Are you breaking us out tonight?"

He saw Ori wince and shrink in on himself. "Umm, no, sorry, this isn't a rescue. It's just me, sorry. I was meant to figure out where exactly you were being held so that Balin and Dwalin could come up with a rescue plan. We weren't even sure if you were actually in this cell block. It just seemed like the most likely spot."

"It's alright, Ori, that makes sense," Fíli said even though the disappointment was almost physically painful. "Though why didn't they send your brother? Nori's the thief."

"He's on his way to the Blue Mountains with Bofur."

"He's what? Why?"

"We found Kíli being held in the Healers' Halls and Balin sent Nori and Bofur to go get Princess Dís and bring her back."

"What? Why--alright, never mind. Have you found Thorin? I haven't seen him since they moved me here."

"No, not yet." Ori fidgeted, glancing over his shoulder at the cell block door. "I should get out of here soon. I staged a diversion just like Nori showed me, but there's no telling when the guard will come back."

Fíli frowned, trying to figure out the time. It felt like it was somewhere around dawn, which meant that the guard on duty could be either Tofa or the other guard, the one who looked like he was just waiting for an excuse to beat Fíli half to death. He was sure that Tofa wouldn't do anything worse than arresting him; Fíli wouldn't want Ori running into the other guard. "Yes, you should go. Be careful."

Ori nodded, looking excited despite the danger. "Don't worry, we'll have you out of here in no time--"

There was the sound of voices in the corridor outside. Fíli's heart skipped a beat and then pounded hard. "Ori, hide!"

But there was nowhere in the short hallway between the cells to hide. Ori froze like a rabbit in a trap as the door swung wide open. Tofa and the other guard walked in, mid-argument.

"And I'm telling you that those shields were re-stacked just this afternoon. There's no way that they would fall over on their own. Someone--" Tofa abruptly stopped speaking as both guards noticed Ori.

"What's this? An escape attempt?" The other guard drew his sword and stalked toward Ori as he spoke. "Skalgar won't be happy to hear someone got so far into the prison. Perhaps if I bring him your head, he'll be more amiable." Ori made a soft, terrified-sounding noise as the guard tipped up his chin with the point of his sword.

"Grímól, wait." Tofa put her hand on the guard's free arm. "Skalgar will want to question him. You can't just kill him."

"I'm not afraid of you!" Ori blustered. "You're holding the rightful King of Erebor prisoner just like the cowardly scum you are."

Grímól snarled, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. He shook his other arm but Tofa kept hold of it, still trying to calm him down.

"Ori, shut up!" Fíli hissed.

But Ori was not listening to reason. "Traitorous whoresons!"

Grímól drew his sword back for a clean swing at Ori's neck. Tofa stepped into his body and hooked a leg around his ankle and the two of them landed in a heap on the floor, struggling desperately for control of the sword. 

Fíli could tell that Tofa was a fierce fighter but she was trying not to harm Grímól, who had the advantage of weight and not being particularly concerned about injuring his opponent. They rolled once, twice, and then Grímól was on top with his elbow leaning hard on her neck, effectively strangling her as he pried the sword out of her grip with his other hand. 

Fíli threw himself at the bars even though he knew he couldn't break through them. Grímól was going to kill Tofa, he could see it in the teeth-bared grimace on the guard's face.

Then Ori threw himself on Grímól's back. There was a flash of silver and a gurgling noise and the guard thrashed violently and then went limp, a dark stain spreading across the leather of his cuirass.

"Ori! What did you do?" Fíli hissed.

White-faced, Ori staggered to his feet. He swallowed hard and said, "Nori showed me the best way to knife a man in the back. I didn't know what it would feel like...I think I might be sick." He staggered to the side and sat down hard on the floor, looking nauseous.

Tofa shoved Grímól's body off of her with a grunt of effort. Fíli tensed, watching her as she stood up with the dead guard's sword in her hand and looked back and forth between the corpse and Ori. He couldn't read her expression.

"Ori only did that to save your life. Grímól was going to kill you, you know that," Fíli said.

She rubbed her free hand across her face and said something in a language he didn't recognize, but it definitely sounded like a curse.

"Let him go," he pleaded. "Ori is just a boy."

She swore again. "I signed a contract to guard prisoners, not to kill an innocent lad who just saved my life. If I turn him into Skalgar, the healer will kill him. If I let him go, Skalgar will no doubt kill me." She turned away for a moment, running her free hand over her braided hair. "This is a fine bloody mess."

"Or we can all escape together. Tofa, we can all get out of this if you just trust me."

She laughed silently, looking like she was at the end of her rope. "We're all going to die, you crazy prince. Skalgar's men will hunt us down like dogs."

"We might not though," Fíli said with a winning smile.

"Either way, my contract has been rendered invalid." She looked down at the sword in her hand for a long moment and then reversed the grip, handing it to Fíli through the bars before unlocking his cell with the keys on her belt. "Let's get out of here. Hurry, we've only an hour or so until the sun rises."

Fíli helped Ori to his feet and then started the ugly project of stripping Grímól's body for his armor and weapons. Dressed in a guard's armor, Fíli would be much less likely to be spotted as they escaped. "We have to get Kíli first."

"We don't have time! Our chances drop to nothing if we take too long to get out of the city."

"We're not leaving without my brother." Fíli finished buckling on the guard's armor and turned to face her, crossing his arms across his chest. "We either get Kíli or die trying."

Tofa threw her hands in the air. "Fine! Fine, let's all walk into Skalgar's parlor and steal a prince from under his nose. I'm sure there's no way this will end poorly."

Fíli grinned at her. "That's the spirit. Let's go."

"We're all going to die," she said, but she was smiling while she said it so Fíli took that as a good sign.

He had a weapon, allies, and his freedom. There was nothing and no one that could keep him from rescuing his little brother now.


	12. Revelations and Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nightmare imagery including anxiety about losing a pregnancy.

At the end of the first day's journey across the partly forested land to the east of Rivendell, Tauriel was surprised to find herself unusually weary after what she would normally consider an easy day of travel. She was careful not to show any signs of it around Bilbo, who was already hovering around her like a mother hen. She didn't want to give him any more cause to worry about her, and she certainly didn't want to give Lady Dís any more fuel for the argument that Tauriel should not accompany them on the journey to Erebor.

The evening meal was cooked by Bofur with assistance from Bilbo (and heckling from Nori.) There were plenty of fresh vegetables and even fruit, little luxuries that she was aware they would not enjoy for long. They would use up the food which would spoil first, then subsist on dried grains and beans, game brought down by arrows along the way, and whatever greens they could gather from around their evening campsites.

Despite the knowledge that this was only the first day of a long journey, Tauriel's spirits were high. They were on their way to rescue her love. 

Kíli was alive, and no dangers or obstacles would keep her from him.

After dinner, she wandered to the edge of the little circle of light around the campfire and gazed up at the stars. They had shone brightly in a cloudless winter sky the night that she and Kíli had wed on the shores of the Long Lake. He had repeated the traditional words of the Silvan wedding vows and then braided a silver bead into her hair. She had no clasp to use on his hair but he had laughed and requested a thin ribbon of cloth cut from the edge of her cloak to fasten the end of his wedding braid, saying it was probably more fitting for an Elven spouse than a Dwarven-style bead anyway.

Tauriel rolled the silver bead at the end of her wedding braid between her fingers, smiling at the memory of Kíli's large but surprisingly nimble fingers braiding her hair.

" _Bavonursinh_ ," he had whispered. When she asked him what it meant he said that it meant she was his lady crowned with fire and they had kissed then under the stars. But despite her happiness in that moment, Tauriel's heart had still ached with fear for the battle that was yet to come.

The sound of a footfall upon dried leaves brought her back to the present to find Prince Elladan approaching her. He and his brother were normally as stealthy as any Silvan scout in the forest, so he must have deliberately made noise as he walked to alert her of his approach.

"Tauriel, may I have a word with you in private?" He wore an uncharacteristically somber look on his face. 

"Of course, Lord Elladan." She wondered what could have robbed the Half-Elven lord of his usual air of self-confidence. Was he thinking better of accompanying them on the quest? She would be surprised if that was the case, since she had taken him for one who thrives on danger and the unknown.

They walked for a few minutes into the sparse trees and shrubs that surrounded the campsite, stopping in a small clearing out of casual earshot of the camp but still within shouting distance if they ran into trouble.

Elladan stepped two paces from her, turned to face her, and sank down on one knee with his head bowed. He drew his sword and laid on the grass before him, its hilt pointing towards her. "Lady Tauriel, I apologize for my attentions to you. Please allow me to make amends for insulting your honor."

"What? Get up." She gaped at him. Elladan continued to kneel with his head bowed, not looking up at her. "Lord Elladan, please get up!"

His shoulders slumped. "I understand. You do not need to worry. I will ride back to Rivendell and ask Glorfindel to take my place in your company. It will not take him long to catch up with you."

"What are you talking about? Lord Elladan, look at me."

Reluctantly, he looked up at her.

"Please understand, I am a Silvan Elf and I have never been outside of Mirkwood before in my life. I don't know your Rivendell customs and I don't know why you're kneeling or why you think you should leave us. So explain it to me."

"I have insulted your honor and I wish to make amends for my behavior."

"Please explain to me how you've insulted me, because I truly do not understand."

"I trust that you do not mean to be deliberately cruel." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His shoulders slumped further. "My lady, I developed a romantic interest in you and, believing you to be a widow, I insulted your honor by pursuing you."

Tauriel squinted at him as if that would somehow make his words make more sense. "You were pursuing me? As in, romantically?"

Elladan somehow managed to look both deeply repentant and annoyed at the same time. "You did not notice my attentions?"

Realizing that he really wasn't going to stop kneeling any time soon, she sat down on the grass facing him, the hilt of his sword brushing her knee. "Among my people, courtship is initiated by bringing a gift of your own handiwork. If you had brought me game that you had hunted, an item that you had crafted, or a poem or song that you had written, then I would have known you were interested in pursuing me. To be honest, I thought that you disliked me."

His mouth dropped open. It was the least elegant and self-possessed she had ever seen him look. "You thought that I..."

"Well, you kept watching me. I assumed you were waiting for me to do something completely barbaric so that you could throw me out of Rivendell." She laughed a little, pushing back her hair. "I am a lowborn soldier from the Woodland Realm, banished from my home and pregnant. Why would the son of Lord Elrond pursue me?"

"Because you are strong, fierce, and beautiful." 

"There's no need to flatter me. I am hardly the latter." She shrugged, feeling self-conscious about her bright red hair--a color considered common as mud in Mirkwood, but eye-catching and apparently somewhat disturbing in Rivendell--and the ugly, disfiguring scar on her face.

"You are more beautiful than you know, but I will not presume to argue with you on that point. I suppose that I...I looked at you and I saw a woman who would not be broken by the cruelties of this world."

The look of sadness on his face told her that there was a story behind that, but she would not pry.

"I'll hear no more talk of dishonor, Lord Elladan. You are guilty of nothing more than developing an affection for someone who is unavailable." She paused, struck by a thought. "But our people do not marry more than once. Customs are not so different among the Elves of Rivendell, are they?"

"They are not so different, no. But to my sorrow, I have found that the heart is not always rational." He took a deep breath, looking down, and then met her eyes as he said, "I would have waited for you for as long as you needed, and I would have loved your child as if it was my own. This I promise you."

Tauriel felt her heart twist in her chest at his words of devotion and the intense look in his eyes. She prayed that he did not love her, for such love could be fatal to an Elf. "Promise me--promise me that you'll not fade over this."

"No," he sighed, smiling ruefully. "I won't fade, nor will I wander the earth singing of my sorrows. I am a fool, but not that much of a fool."

"Oh," she said quietly. She did not quite know what to say. "I thank you for your honesty. I think--I think that I need some time alone now."

"My lady." He bowed over his bent knee and rose to his feet. "If you are certain you will be safe out here on your own?"

"I am a Mirkwood scout, my lord. This gentle forest holds no terrors for me."

She watched his retreating back, her brow wrinkling as she tried to sort out her thoughts. "You can come out now, Bilbo."

The leaves did not even rustle as the Hobbit stepped out of the shelter of a hawthorn bush. "How did you know that I was there?"

"I guessed." Smiling, she gestured for him to join her.

"Do you mind if I have a pipe? It's a lovely night for a smoke. I'll sit downwind of you, of course."

Hobbits and Dwarves and their obsession with burning dried leaves and inhaling the smoke; she would never understand it. "Of course you may."

Bilbo smoked in silence for a few minutes as she gathered her thoughts. How could she have missed the signs of Elladan developing an affection for her? Was she so blinded by her own grief? On a hunch, she asked, "You knew that Lord Elladan had developed an affection for me, did you not?"

"I was aware, but...I had hoped that it would blow over on its own. Awkward business, developing an interest in an unattainable person." Bilbo looked away and muttered, "I'd know, after all."

She seized on the opportunity to talk about anything other than her own confused feelings. "Your feelings for Thorin Oakenshield, you mean? I did not think that he was unattainable. Princess Dís publicly recognized you as his husband, did she not?"

Bilbo puffed furiously for a moment, smoke rising from him as if he were a tiny and very polite dragon. "Well, it's not like that is legally binding, after all."

"She is the rightful ruler of Erebor until Thorin Oakenshield is rescued. I do not know Dwarven law and customs, admittedly, but in the Woodland Realm the King's word is law. I cannot imagine it is so very different among the Dwarves."

"Yes, well. What is said now, while we are on a desperate quest, and what is said later once the dust settles may be two very different things." There was a darkness to Bilbo's tone and the corners of his mouth quirked bitterly.

"Is this about Thorin's gold-sickness? Bilbo, I am sure that a cure can be found."

"No, not exactly. Or well yes, a little bit, but mostly it's this: Thorin, if he is still alive and we succeed in rescuing him--two things which are by no means guaranteed--will be King of Erebor. As well as holder of the Arkenstone, which by all accounts is a fairly important thing. And I will still only be Bilbo Baggins, a gentleman Hobbit of no great importance."

"You are more important that you believe," she said, unsurprised when he scoffed at her. "But surely you spoke with him of these matters? What did he say?"

"Oh, fine promises, the type a beau will whisper in the firelight--the type that withers and fades in the light of day." Bilbo sighed. "Do not worry yourself about it. I will help rescue him if I can, and then quietly return home to the Shire. I know where I belong."

She shook her head, protesting the resigned note to his voice. "No, Bilbo, you are the bravest and kindest person I know. You deserve happiness."

"What we deserve and what we receive are often two very different things, my dear."

She could not argue with that, though she wished that she could. They sat silently for a few minutes before Bilbo asked, "Tauriel, may I ask you something...rather personal?"

She felt a surge of fondness for this strange Hobbit who could face down Kings, as fierce as a dragon when his friends were threatened, and yet hesitated to ask a personal question. "Of course you may, _mellon_."

"You said you had thought you were hallucinating the visions of Kíli, but now we have reason to believe that they were real and that Kíli's soul was somehow separated from his body by the potions he's been given. But how would that work, precisely? I can imagine he'd be able to go traipsing about in Erebor--in a ghostly way of course--but how could he possibly have come to you, separated as you were by hundreds of leagues? Is it just that you're in love? Perhaps I'm being too logical about this, but that seems to be not enough of an explanation."

"I would assume that it is our _faelif_."

"Your what?"

She grasped for a way to explain it in Westron. "A _faelif_ is--I suppose the best translation is "soul-link." Elves who are deeply connected to each other in some way--married couples, siblings, parent and child, sometimes close friends--can sense each other at a distance and even know when the other is in danger. Some even have the ability to speak to one another at a distance, though that is rare. More typically, it is simply a sense of the other person's general emotional state. I think that is why Kíli and I were able to communicate and why his spirit came to me. I am surprised though--" she broke off, wincing.

"Yes? Surprised by what?"

"Surprised that Kíli was able to spiritually communicate with me." Her ear-tips flushed red with embarrassment as she added, "I assumed he would not be able to form a _faelif_ with me because he is a Dwarf."

Bilbo shook his head. "I don't understand. Why would that affect it?"

"Because my people have always said that the reason we Elves can form soul-links and the other races--at least as far as we knew--could not, is that Elves are more soul than body. If Dwarves can form soul-links with Elves then perhaps...perhaps we are not as different as I had always been taught." She had never thought to question it before. She had simply accepted that of course only Elves, the First Born among the peoples of Middle Earth, could form such a profound bond. _How arrogant and narrow-minded we are_ , she thought with a feeling of dull shame.

"Wouldn't that just put a twist in King Thranduil's--errr--tail?" Bilbo chuckled as he chewed on his pipestem. She had the feeling he'd substituted that last word for a much ruder one.

"To say the least. Bilbo, the things we have learned in the past few days--that Narvi and Celebrimbor had a child together, that Dwarves can form soul-links with Elves--these revelations could anger a great many people."

"What does it matter if an Elf and Dwarf had a child in the distant past? And for heavens sakes, you Elves aren't _that_ different from the rest of us."

"It matters. My people do not accept change gracefully. They ignore it for as long as they possibly can, until it is quite literally killing us to not accept that circumstances have altered beyond our control. The Dwarves are no less resistant to change. And it is killing us, Bilbo."

"Is it really so bad as all that?"

"The Dwarves have a mere fraction of their ancient kingdoms left. The Sindar and Noldor flee our shores for the Blessed Lands while the Silvans--and I suppose even the Avari--slowly fall to the advancing darkness. Our peoples are both dying, and now I find myself pregnant with the first known child of Elven and Dwarven heritage in thousands of years. I do not know what change my _pîn elloth_ will bring to our people, but I do know one thing."

"Which is?"

"Whether it is for good or ill, people fear change."

***

Tauriel's sleep was troubled that night by ominous dreams of abandonment and rejection. 

The dream took the memory of King Thranduil banishing her forever from her home and added the nightmarish element of her dead parents standing in the audience, turning their backs on her with the rest as the King pronounced her banished. Legolas alone did not turn his back but watched her with eyes full of hate and anger, instead of the desperate pleading for her to throw herself on the King's mercy and beg for forgiveness that the real Legolas had shown during that ordeal.

In her dream the sombre but welcoming face of Lord Elrond became cold and disdainful as he turned her away from Rivendell. Lady Dís's eyes were like chips of ice as she told Tauriel that Erebor required no Elven help and that her son would never meet his half-Elven bastard. Even Bilbo left her, explaining that he had to return to the Shire and that he never should have left for all of this "Elf and Dwarf nonsense."

In the strange logic of a dream, she turned away from the sight of Bilbo riding away from her to see that she had stepped into one of the cells under King Thranduil's palace. She rattled the door and shouted for the guards but no one came. The usual comfortable sounds of home were missing. There was no harp music or singing echoing from the upper levels nor was there the quiet sound of conversation or laughter, not even the sound of light Elven footsteps on stone. The palace was abandoned, a mere shell devoid of occupants.

She was trapped and utterly alone. There would be no stealthy Hobbit burglar to steal the keys and open the enchanted cell doors to free her. 

Tauriel automatically rested her hand on her stomach, a gesture that had become habitual--but her hand continued down past where she expected it to be stopped by the roundness of her belly. Her heart caught in her throat. She looked down at herself and discovered that she wore her old Forest Guard uniform, the leather cuirass lying smoothly over a stomach as flat as if she had never been pregnant at all.

She couldn't breathe. It was a feeling much like the time she and Legolas had, in a fit of youthful stupidity, decided to row a boat down the rapids on the Forest River. Then she had almost drowned, pulled under by the current, before Legolas dragged her out. Now there was no familiar hand reaching into the dark whirlpool to pull her to safety as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Clutching her stomach, Tauriel fell to her knees with her chest heaving for breath that would not come.

She heard Kíli's voice as if from a great distance. "Tauriel? Tauriel! Speak to me, love."

Then with the typical suddenness of a dream the drowning waves of darkness were gone and she was floating in a grey haze. It was as if she had somehow walked up into the sky as she had often yearned to do--but instead of the brilliant light of the stars she had found only clouds, leaden and heavy with rain that would not fall. She mouthed Kíli's name but did not say it aloud, afraid of how it would sound in this vast, desolate nothingness.

Would the dream now torment her with the vision of Kíli rejecting her, as it had with everyone else she cared for? She could not bear the thought of it.

" _Gimlinh_ , please don't cry."

She could smell his scent of musk, hot metal, and fresh air, as if he had been out in the forest just a moment ago. She felt his hand brush tenderly against her cheek and it was finally too much. She had borne everything that had happened--the apparent death of her husband, the loss of her homeland, the discovery that she was pregnant while halfway across the world from anything she had ever known--but this was finally too much. Tauriel fell to the strangely spongy, formless floor and curled up into a ball, covering her face with her hands to hide her tears.

"What's wrong? Please tell me."

She tried to speak and found that her voice was locked in her throat. She shook her head violently.

She heard Kíli shifting and then he laid down on the floor facing her, though she did not dare to open her eyes, afraid that he would disappear. She felt him pressing kisses on the crown of her head as his hand stroked her hair. He switched to the Dwarven language as he whispered to her, the words strangely soothing though she could not understand them.

"This is a dream," she said when her tears had dried up at last.

"Is it?" Kíli curled his fingers gently at the corner of her jaw, lightly pressing to urge her to look up at him. She opened her eyes to see him gazing at her with his warm dark eyes, his mouth quirked thoughtfully. "I suppose it might be. But if it is, whose dream is it? I think it might be yours, because mine would involve a soft bed and you wearing nothing but gold and diamonds."

"What?"

"You don't like gold and diamonds? Hmmm, perhaps you're right. Nothing but mithril and emeralds to match her eyes for my _bavonursinh_." His voice merry, he added, "So, if this is your dream, could you find us some better accommodations?"

She uncurled a little, looking around them at the grey nothingness. "You think I can just...change where we are? Just like that?"

"Why not?"

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of a more comfortable place to sleep. Perhaps her familiar bedroom in Thranduil's palace, or the lovely guest room in Rivendell. She opened her eyes to see instead the half-crumbled storage room in the ruins of Dale where she and Kíli had found privacy together in the days before the battle.

They lay in a nest of blankets that still smelled of the barn they had been salvaged from. Kíli wore his oversized clothing from their time in Lake-Town and she wore...Tauriel gasped. Instead of the leather cuirass of the Forest Guard, she wore the square-necked green gown that Lainiel had made her, gathered below the breasts and gently draping over her rounded belly. 

She placed her hand on her stomach and sobbed aloud once as she felt the faint fluttering of the baby shifting.

"Tauriel," Kíli said in a voice soft with wonder. "You really are..."

"Yes, I am with child. Our child."

"Our child." His eyes shone with happiness as he laid his hand on her belly, his smile spreading across his face as he felt the shifting of their child within her womb. "Tauriel, _gimlinh_ , my love..."

"I'm coming to save you, _meleth nín_. I will find you and rescue you."

He grinned and brushed a lock of hair from her face. "I know you will, my brave warrior queen. Never doubted it."

"I've missed you so much, Kíli. Why did you disappear for so long? I worried that you were--that you..."

"Has it been so long? I don't really remember. I think perhaps I've been wandering for a while..." His voice trailed off as he frowned and then he shook his head sharply, his smile returning. "What does it matter? We're here now, you and me and..."

"I've been calling the baby _pîn elloth_. It means little flower."

"Our little flower." He grinned so widely that his eyes nearly squeezed shut. With foreheads touching and hands linked on her belly, they lay in a comfortable nest of blankets and murmured to each other words of love and joy.

She had a distant feeling that she should ask him some questions and try to make plans, but the drowsy contentment of the dream made it all seem unimportant somehow. She was with her beloved and none of the worries of the waking world could touch them, here in this bubble of peace and contentment.

Tauriel was unsure when she slipped out of the dream and into a deep, natural sleep, but she awoke feeling happier and more energetic than she had in months, with a vague memory of having dreamed of Kíli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> bavonursinh - fire-crowned lady  
> gimlinh - star-lady
> 
> Sindarin:  
> fae - spirit  
> faelif - soul-link  
> meleth nín - my love  
> pîn elloth - little flower


	13. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen to base the geography of the Lonely Mountain more on the book than on the movies; therefore there is a steep rocky slope down from the secret door, not a huge, ridiculous staircase that rather defeats the purpose of the entrance being _secret_.

Though the hour was early, there were still servants and guards about in the halls of Erebor. Tofa, Fíli, and Ori were careful not to be noticed as they worked their way closer to the Healers' Halls through back hallways, avoiding the busier thoroughfares. 

Everywhere Fíli looked there was evidence of damage from the dragon's occupation of Erebor. It looked like all that had been done was to clear away the debris and shore up anything structurally unstable. Uncle Thorin would be furious if he knew how little had been done to return Erebor to its former glory.

"Do you have any plan whatsoever?" Tofa asked in a barely audible tone as they hid in an alcove waiting for an early morning riser to shuffle past.

"Not...as such," Fíli admitted. At her hiss of exasperation he improvised, "We'll tell the guard outside Kíli's room that the healer wants Kíli transferred to the cell block you're guarding."

"That's actually not bad. Might even work. But what about the lad? We could have him hide somewhere until we return, but I dislike that plan. Too much could go wrong."

"You can say I'm a porter. I can carry Prince Kíli if he's unconscious." Ori firmed his jaw, meeting their eyes defiantly.

"You?" Tofa raised an eyebrow at him. "Lad, you look barely big enough to lift a hammer, much less a full-grown Dwarf."

"Well, his brother is the strongest Dwarf in the Company and he _definitely_ doesn't look it, so I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand," Fíli said. "Ori, you really think you can lift him?"

"I've carried Nori home drunk from the tavern a time or two." Ori shrugged. "Your brother can't be much heavier."

Fíli raised his eyebrows at Tofa. She nodded and said, "Let me do all the talking. The guard knows me already, so he should be less suspicious than if someone he didn't recognize came calling."

"Lead on, my lady," Fíli said with a courtly bow. She rolled her eyes at him, looking amused despite the tense situation.

As instructed, he kept his mouth shut and walked slightly behind her as she led the way into the Healers' Halls. She called a cheerful greeting to the guard standing outside of a nondescript, unmarked door.

"Tofa! My Southern beauty, you've finally come to your senses and decided to run away with me."

"Ah, promises, promises. I know you're all talk, you silver-tongued charmer." Tofa chuckled, sounding casually flirtatious. Her entire demeanor had shifted so that she seemed a completely different person. Fíli resisted the urge to stare at her. "Listen, I've got orders to transfer the prisoner from this room down to the cell block Grímól and I are assigned to watch."

The guard frowned. "I didn't get any message about a transfer."

She sighed with every evidence of bored exasperation. "Typical. Alright, I guess my recruit and I get to be the luckless bastards who have to wake the Healer at the asscrack of dawn. Or else...you could just let me transfer the prisoner now and skip all the fuss."

"I don't know..."

"Listen, I tell you what. You help me out now and I help you win our next card game at the Blooded Boar. Old one-eye cuts the deck stacked and I know how he does it. My price is that you buy me a drink with your winnings." Tofa sounded relaxed and teasing, her body language perfect for a bored guard thinking more about a night at the tavern than the job.

The guard chuckled. "Fair enough. You help me win, I'll buy you all the drinks you want."

She winked at him. "You wouldn't be trying to get me drunk, would you?"

"You? By the Hammer, no. I'm not that stupid," the guard said ruefully as he unlocked the door to the room.

"Lad, go make yourself useful and fetch the prisoner," Tofa ordered Ori. Leaning against the wall next to the door, she gossipped idly with the guard about the people they apparently played cards with at a tavern after work.

Fíli barely heard them, so intent was he on the sight of Ori exiting the room carrying Kíli in his arms.

His brother looked sickly, with hollow cheeks and an unhealthy grey cast to his skin. His hair was lank and greasy, grown long and even more of a mess than usual with no one to care for it. He was either unconscious or asleep, lying limply in Ori's arms.

Fíli made himself look away before he gave himself away by either rushing over to hug his brother or thrashing everyone in the palace who'd had a hand in contributing to Kíli's current state.

"I'll see you at eight bells at the Blooded Boar." Tofa and the guard knocked their leather gauntlets together in a casual warriors' goodbye. "Move your feet, lad, time's a-wasting," she told Ori.

"Say, Tofa, your recruit has something on his back there," the guard called as they walked away.

Fíli's heart thudded. They had tried their best to get all of the dead guard's blood off the armor, but the leather jack was still darkly stained on one panel despite their efforts. He tensed, ready to draw his sword.

"Ah, you know recruits--they're like puppies. Probably rolled in some shit or something," Tofa tossed over her shoulder in a mildly exasperated-sounding tone.

The guard laughed, letting the question drop. Fíli barely dared to breathe until they turned a corner, out of sight of the guard.

"Did we actually pull that off?" Ori asked. 

Fíli and Tofa exchanged glances. "I wouldn't relax yet," she said. "We've still got to get out of the palace without being spotted. That took longer than I'd hoped."

Hazy memories of stories his mother had told of her childhood in the palace were tugging at the back of Fíli's brain. There was a story he and Kíli used to demand she told over and over, about a hidden passageway. "Are we anywhere near the royal apartments?" he asked.

"Not too far," Tofa said with a shrug. "I would think though that the royal apartments would be the last place we'd want to go."

"No, hear me out--my mother grew up in the palace. She told me that there was a secret way out of the mountain near the royal apartments just in case the royal family ever had to flee. I don't know if it connects to the secret passage the Company used to get into the mountain, but I think it might be our best chance to get out of here."

She frowned. "You sure you'll be able to find it?"

"Positive," Fíli lied. In truth, he was only half-certain he could find it based on his mother's stories, but it seemed a better gamble than walking all the way through the mountain carrying Kíli while hoping not to be spotted. Every minute they spent in the open increased the danger that they would be seen and recognized.

"Hold on, let's put your brother's arms over our shoulders and support him between the two of us. If anyone asks, we got turned around getting our drunk friend home from the tavern," Tofa said. "It's not a great excuse, but hopefully our uniforms will discourage questions." 

"What should I do?" Ori asked.

"Just trail along behind us and look worried," Fíli said absently as they rearranged Kíli's limp form. His brother's head lolled to the side as they moved him and Fíli had the horrifying impression that there was no one at home in Kíli's body. He shuddered, shoving the thought away. Kíli was drugged, that was all. His brother would be _just fine_ once they got him away from the healer's noxious potions.

"Looking worried is not going to be difficult," Ori muttered. Tofa snorted quietly.

The corridors became wider and better lit as they neared the area around the royal quarters. Fíli's mind raced, trying to remember where exactly his mother had said the secret passage was. "Look for a wall carving of the seven stars reflecting from the surface of Kheled-zâram."

"I know where that is! I've run messages up here a few times and I always notice that carving." Ori darted past them to a narrow staircase where he paused, gesturing impatiently for them to join him. "It's up these stairs and to the left."

They found the carving easily enough. Ori and Tofa supported Kíli between them, leaving Fíli free to examine the carving. There were fourteen stars total: the stars above the lake connecting in a circle with the stars reflecting from the surface of Kheled-zâram. As his mother had told him, the carved stars could be pressed in slightly. There was a trick to them, though: they had to be pressed in the right order for the secret passage to open. 

What was the order? It was something having to do with a special kind of number, he thought. _Think, stupid, think!_ he told himself.

"Someone's coming up the staircase. It sounds like more than one person, maybe several," Tofa said in a barely audible murmur. "Whatever you're doing, hurry it up."

There was something about the crown above the central star in the sky. The crown, royalty...the King. Fíli's breath whooshed out with relief as he remembered finally. The King's numbers, that's what his mother had called them: numbers that couldn't be divided by anything but themselves. He was fairly sure that he remembered the sequence. He'd better.

Fíli's hands were shaking with nerves like a boy in his first battle as he carefully pressed the stars in order, counting the star with the crown above it as number one. There was a horrible moment after he pressed the thirteenth star and nothing happened. Had he pressed the wrong numbers? Did the secret door even work anymore, after so long sitting unused? Then with an almost soundless click the panel slid open. 

Ori and Tofa maneuvered Kíli into the secret passage and Fíli followed just in time. He heard the footsteps on the stairs nearing just as he ducked into the opening and swung the door closed behind him. 

The door was thick stone fit perfectly to the opening. Swinging shut, it blocked out all sound from the corridor and left them in absolute darkness. 

Tofa made a wordless noise of exasperation. "Let's hope there's another way out of here, since I'm fairly sure you just locked us in."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? Leave it open?"

"I guess not," she said grudgingly. "Either of you have a light?"

"I still have my lantern," Ori said. "We need to put Prince Kíli down so I can get to it though."

There was a rustling sound and then Fíli winced, covering his eyes against the bright light of the lantern. Once his eyesight recovered, he saw that they stood at the beginning of a narrow stone passageway that stretched into the darkness. The stone walls were dark and unmarked, with the remnants of cobwebs fluttering in the faint breeze. Fíli shuddered at the reminder but these were the webs of normal-sized spiders, not the monstrous webs of the Mirkwood spiders.

Kíli lay on the floor like a discarded doll, his eyes closed and his body limp. Fíli dropped to his knees next to his brother. "Little brother, can you hear me?"

There was no response. Fíli felt faintly ill as he saw that Kíli's eyes were slightly open, a thin slit of white showing between his eyelashes.

Tofa leaned over his shoulder. "He doesn't look good."

Fíli cupped Kíli's face in his hands, hissing as he felt how cold and waxy his brother's skin felt. "We need to get him to a healer. Ori, can we get him to Óin?"

"The nobles are being watched. But maybe we can sneak into his clinic somehow," Ori said tentatively.

"Don't be stupid. That's the first place Skalgar's men will look." Tofa crossed her arms, returning Fíli's glare with one of her own. " You have to be smarter than that."

"Well then, where are we supposed to go?" Fíli growled, frustrated.

"I don't know. Don't you have any allies outside of Erebor? Anyone you can go to for help?"

"Our mother, but she's in the Blue Mountains."

"Anyone who's _not_ halfway across Middle Earth?"

"Gandalf. But before you even ask, no, I don't know where he is."

"I don't even know _who_ he is."

"Gandalf? You know, the Grey Wizard?"

She shrugged at him, miming incomprehension. 

"How can you not know--never mind. So beyond Gandalf...well, there's Bard, but we were sort of at war with him, last I knew."

"Not anymore," Ori said. "Bard has made an alliance with Dáin."

"Then he can't be trusted."

Fíli raked his hands through his hair, trying to think. They couldn't go to the other members of the Company (and oh, how relieved he was to hear that they were still alive!), Lord Elrond had been helpful but Rivendell was too far away and besides Fíli didn't entirely trust his motives, there was Thranduil--hah! Fíli could barely even think that without laughing bitterly--and beyond that there was...Beorn? But in order to get to Beorn's house they would have to cross Mirkwood, and he feared trying to do that with Kíli in his current condition.

"I think you're wrong about that," Tofa said. "King Bard of Dale has an alliance with Dáin, true enough, but Bard doesn't like him much and he likes Skalgar even less."

"How do you know?"

"Guards gossip. I've been playing cards with half the guards in the palace for weeks to find out where your brother was being held. I found out a few other useful things along the way."

" _That's_ how you found how where Kíli was being held? Playing cards?"

He could hear the smile in Tofa's voice even though her face was lost in the shadows thrown by the lantern. "Guardsmen gossip just like miners when they're in their cups. It's simply a question of steering the conversation in the right direction."

"Fair enough." Fíli hesitated, but they really didn't have any other viable choices. Bard had helped them out before the dragon came and mucked everything up. "Very well. We'll see if Bard will give us shelter. But first we have to find out if this passage actually goes anywhere. If there's a cave-in or blockage somewhere we'll be back to the drafting table."

They took turns carrying Kíli, who didn't even stir as he was jostled and shifted about. It turned out that Ori hadn't been exaggerating about sharing his brother Dori's prodigious strength, so he took the longest shifts.

It was a slow journey down a seemingly endless series of narrow passages. There were no cross-corridors or any other doors that Fíli could see. Eventually the straight corridor ended at a spiral stairway doing down. They paused just long enough to switch back to Ori carrying Kíli and started down the stairway.

After long enough that they seemed to have dropped down below the most populated levels if Fíli's sense of their position in the mountain could be trusted, the stairway finally ended at a blank door.

The door swung open silently, revealing yet another empty corridor. Tofa held out a hand to stop them before they stepped into the new hallway. "There are tracks on the floor. Several months old, judging by the dust that's settled into the footprints."

"This is the secret passage the Company used to get into the mountain, I'm sure of it!" Ori exclaimed quietly. "But I don't remember there being a door here."

Fíli sagged with relief. He'd begun to worry that they were never going to find a way out of the mountain. "The door is probably hidden when it's closed. Here, we need to wedge something under the door so that it won't close behind us. We're going to need a way back in if we're going to rescue Uncle Thorin once Kíli's recovered."

"Fíli...I heard a lot of gossip while I was playing cards with the guards, but in all that time I didn't hear any rumors that your uncle might still be alive. I'm sorry." Tofa sounded sincere but Fíli shook his head, denying her sympathy.

"He's alive, I'm sure of it. We'll come back after we get Kíli somewhere safe and we'll rescue Thorin too." He raised his hand to forestall any argument. "It doesn't matter right now. First we've got to get my brother to safety."

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Help me wedge a dagger into the hinges."

They followed the dusty footprints down a long, straight corridor to a door below a carving of the Raven Throne and the Arkenstone. "That's the exit!" Ori hissed. 

"Hope there aren't any guards on it," Fíli said.

"Dáin doesn't know about the secret door. None of us told him about it. At first there was just so much going on that it didn't seem important, and then later...well, once we started suspecting Dáin of treachery there was no way any of us were going to tell him."

"Let's hope you're right." Fíli and Tofa drew their swords before he tugged the door open cautiously. He let out a great sigh of relief after they peeked outside and found that there was no one waiting outside the secret door. "Our luck is holding."

"The luck of children and madmen," Tofa muttered as she looked over the rocky slope below them. "We'll need to wait for nightfall to sneak into Dale."

Fíli tried not to wince as he realized that he had no idea where to go once they reached Dale. "Ori, do you know how to find Bard?"

"Yes, I've run messages to his court several times." 

Ori looked surprised and pleased when Fíli thumped him on the back and said, "Good lad."

They retreated inside the hidden door to wait for nightfall. They did not have much to keep Kíli comfortable, but Ori stripped off his overshirt to bundle into a pillow under his head. His brother was still deeply unconscious, but Fíli thought his skin seemed papery and wrinkled, probably from thirst. 

"Kíli needs water," he muttered, chewing on his lip.

"I'll go out and fetch water if I can find a stream," Tofa volunteered. "Of the three of us, I'm least likely to be noted as out of place if anyone sees me."

Fíli hesitated. "Maybe Ori should accompany you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Still thinking I might sell you out? Not sure what you're thinking I might gain from that. If Skalgar doesn't know by now that I willingly helped you escape, he will soon. He's not the kind to forgive betrayal."

"I'm sorry. I know you've risked a lot for us. It's just hard to trust anyone now."

"I understand." She met his eyes for a long moment. "You have my word that I'll aid you until you get your brother to safety."

"And after?"

"Doubt my loyalties in one breath and then demand them in the next? You have some nerve, princeling." She shook her head. "I will help you get your brother to safety, but after that you're on your own. This is not my fight."

"If not this, then what is?"

"What I fought for? It was a long time ago and very far away." She turned away and her voice was barely audible as she added, "And we lost, anyway."

Since the secret door couldn't be opened from the outside without the key, they had to take the risk of leaving it propped open a few inches with a stone while Tofa went out to find water. Fíli settled himself by his brother's side, resting his hand on Kíli's chest to feel him breathing. Ori sat nearby, chewing on his ragged fingernails.

"Are you alright, Ori?"

Ori jumped, looking surprised to be addressed. "Me? I'm fine." He paused for a long moment and added, "Only, I wasn't expecting it to be like that. Nori showed me how, but...I'd never stabbed anyone like that before. Not when it wasn't in the heat of battle, you know?"

Fíli nodded. "The heat of battle makes a lot of things easier to bear doing." They lapsed into silence again, until he found himself asking curiously, "Nori showed you how to knife someone in the back? I can't imagine Dori approved of that."

"No," Ori said, wrinkling his nose. "Dori would definitely not have approved if he'd known about it. No, I asked Nori to show me how to do some of the things he does, just in case I ever needed to know. And because..."

"Because?"

"Because Nori, he doesn't do so well when he's bored. He gets restless and antsy, and then he does things he shouldn't do." Ori drew his shoulders together. "Back when we were in the Blue Mountains waiting for the journey to start, I could see that he was starting to get that way. And I knew that Mister Dwalin was just waiting for Nori to do something wrong so that he could throw him out of the Company. So I asked Nori to train me in what he does, to give him something to focus on."

"You did well."

"Thank you." Ori uncurled a little from his nervous ball. "Dori doesn't understand why Nori does stupid things when he's bored, he just gets angry and yells at him. But I'm sort of like Nori, in that way. I don't go out and cheat thugs at cards and steal things from the market if I'm bored, but my mind starts going in circles and I start feeling like my skin is too tight." He flicked a glance up at Fíli, smiling a little sheepishly. "Why do you think I read so much? I mean, other than that it's fascinating and I love learning things, of course, but also it's...it can be bad for me to not have something to keep my mind busy."

"Kíli's like that too, sort of. Not with the reading--or the thieving--but he's always moving, always doing something with his hands..." Fíli's voice trailed off as he looked down at his brother, so utterly still and _wrong_ , only the movement of his chest proof that he lived at all. Even delirious from the Morgul arrow, Kíli had seemed more alive. Fíli felt a sudden intense longing for their mother's reassuring presence, blinking back shameful, childish tears at the thought and praying that they had gone unnoticed.

"I miss Nori," Ori murmured, ducking his head. "I hope he's safe."

"You said he and Bofur went to Ered Luin to fetch my mother?"

"It was Lord Balin's idea. He said that with King Thorin and both of his heirs missing, Princess Dís could reclaim her place in the line of succession and boot Dáin out on his jacksie."

Fíli chewed on his lip as he thought. If their mother came to Erebor and declared herself the rightful ruler, would the nobles follow her? From what Tofa had said, some of them were growing fat and rich on the misery of the commoners and would be unlikely to want that situation changed. But Balin was a canny old politician. If he thought it would work, then Fíli believed that there was a good chance he was right. The majority of the nobles might be more likely to follow Dís, who was respected in her own right for leading the exiled Dwarves of Erebor in Ered Luin in Uncle Thorin's absence, than Thorin's young, unproven sister-son.

In a perfect world, they would rescue Uncle Thorin and he would ascend the Raven Throne as they had always dreamed he would. But if they were unable to find and rescue Thorin (Fíli superstitiously made the sign of Mahal's hammer at the thought), then Dís ruling as Queen Regent until Fíli was ready to take the throne would be the second best option. 

It would be a relief, actually. Fíli would rule Erebor someday and he would be a good king, he swore. He just wasn't quite ready for "someday" to be now.

The secret door swung open all the way, blinding him briefly. Tofa appeared in the entrance, holding a full water flask and a bundle of what looked like clothing under one arm. "I ran into a patrol. Put this armor on, Ori. We can't stay here any longer."

It wasn't near nightfall yet, but Fíli had to agree that it wasn't safe to stay where they were. If Tofa had taken out a patroller it would be noticed, probably sooner rather than later. He tried coaxing Kíli to drink a little water while Ori put on the ill-fitting armor. His brother seemed closer to consciousness than he had been before, drinking the water thirstily even though his eyes were still closed. Though it pained him to pull the flask away, Fíli only let him have a little water so that he wouldn't drink too much and then throw it back up.

Ori picked up Kíli pickaback again and they headed out the secret door. Fíli hated to leave the door propped open behind them, but there was no other way to get back into the secret passage. He wasn't sure what had happened to the key after Uncle Thorin and the Company had entered Erebor. 

It was a treacherous scramble down the steepest part of the slope. Fíli's heart was in his mouth the whole way, but they made it safely. They found the tiny, fast-running mountain stream where Tofa had filled her flask and took a moment to quench their thirst and splash water on their faces. Even though the water was cold enough to make Fíli's fingers tingle, it felt good to wash some of the grime off of his skin. He'd been dreaming about a hot bath for weeks.

They made it down the slope to the road that led to Dale without incident, but that was as far as their luck held.

They ducked into a ditch to hide from a passing patrol, holding their breath until the sound of marching feet was well past them.

"They've increased the patrols," Tofa murmured. "They must know you and your brother are gone. They'll be looking for you at the gate."

"This is no good," Fíli growled. "Even with the guard uniforms, there's no way we'll get into Dale without being spotted."

"I can go." Ori hunched anxiously as they turned to stare at him, then deliberately squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "I'm a just clerk and messenger. No one really sees me unless they need me to run messages or write something down. All I need to do is take off this," he tugged at the guard armor, "and walk straight into Dale. If anyone challenges me I'll tell them I have a message for King Bard."

Tofa and Fíli exchanged glances. He could tell that she was as worried as he was about the plan. Ori was right, though. He was the only one of them who could walk into Dale without raising the alarm. "Very well. But be careful, Ori. If I get you killed your brothers will skin me alive."

Ori chuckled, though he looked nervous. "Wouldn't want that to happen. I'll be careful."

"We can't stay here," Fíli told him. "It's too close to the road. You remember that rocky outcrop, about half a mile back? It looked like there was a little cave under it. We'll wait for you there."

"All right. I'll bring help as soon as I can." Leaving the armor with them, Ori took a deep breath and flashed them a smile before heading toward the road.

There was a shallow cave under the outcrop, just deep enough to hide them from the outside. They arranged Kíli as comfortably as they could and piled the extra armor on top of him as a sort of makeshift blanket. After coaxing Kíli to drink a little more water, Fíli and Tofa sat side-by-side with their backs resting against the inside wall of the cave and waited. 

Fíli rested his hand on his brother's chest again, taking comfort from the steady rhythm of his breathing. He heaved a sigh and muttered, "I hate this plan. I mean, it's the best plan we have, but...Ori's so young." 

"He's clever and brave." Tofa bumped his shoulder companionably. "He may be young but he's hardly helpless."

"Yeah. You're right." Still, Fíli felt fear gnawing at his insides. It was hard sending someone else into danger while he sat in relative safety.

Not that they were all that safe. They were far enough from the road that he was sure the entrance to the cave couldn't be spotted, but close enough to hear the tramping of booted feet as patrols passed along the road.

"There are definitely more patrols than there should be. Skalgar must be beside himself that you and your brother have escaped." Tofa looked like the thought gave her a certain amount of pleasure.

"I hope he's eating his beard, the wretch." They exchanged grins and then Fíli sobered. "What are the chances we're going to be able to sneak into Dale past the patrols, even if Ori manages to contact Bard?"

She was silent long enough that he knew their thoughts were running along similar paths. "If it comes to it that taking refuge in Dale is impossible, we will find another way. Hopefully not one that involves traveling all the way to Ered Luin, though."

"Thank you, Tofa. I know this isn't your fight and I'm grateful to you for your help."

"You should be." Raising her eyebrows, she added with a sly sidelong glance, "This is far more peril than I would normally venture into without being paid for my services."

He was just opening his mouth to make a play on words that probably stood equal odds of making her laugh or want to stab him when a faint rustling sound came from the entrance to the cave. Fíli and Tofa leapt to their feet, drawing their swords as a familiar-looking blond Elf ducked through the entrance.

"Wait, wait!" Ori gasped, pushing himself between the Elf and their bared swords. "Prince Legolas is here to help!"

"To help us? _Him_?" Fíli demanded.

"Unfortunately, yes," Legolas said with a sour look on his face. "Though I already find myself regretting having agreed to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kheled-zâram: the Mirrormere, where Durin the Deathless saw seven stars reflecting from the surface of the lake in broad daylight. He took that as a sign to found Khazad-dûm (Moria) in the nearby mountains.


	14. Of Cabbages and Princes

"Why would _you_ even want to help us?" Fíli demanded. "Or is this just a ruse so that you can capture us again?" 

A muscle twitched in Legolas's jaw. "I have no interest in capturing you for my father. The only reason I am here at all is that your servant--" (at that, Ori made an indignant noise) "--told me that your brother is at death's door."

"Why would you care? Your father was ready to kill us all, at least until that army of Wargs and Orcs arrived." Against his instincts, Fíli lowered his sword. Beside him Tofa did the same, looking like she was fascinated by the conversation.

"I don't need to share my reasoning with you," the Elf sneered.

"No, I really think that you do."

Legolas ignored him and continued, "What you must understand is that I can get you into Dale, but that alone won't save your brother's life."

"What do you mean?" Fíli glared suspiciously at the Elf. 

"He is too far gone. He needs Elven healing or else he won't last out the week. I will need to heal him once we reach Dale."

Fíli crossed his arms and glared to hide the cold shiver that statement had sent down his spine. "If you think I'm going to let you get near my brother with Elvish magic without you explaining _why_ we should believe that you even care, you can think again."

Legolas snapped, "Because Tauriel married him!"

There was a ringing silence as Fíli stared at him, surprised. They had told Fíli, of course, but he hadn't realized that the Elf knew that Tauriel and Fíli's fool of a brother had married before the Battle. 

"So, you care because we're sort of family-by-marriage?"

Legolas looked frustrated, which appeared to be a common expression for him when speaking with Dwarves. "I care because it is very difficult for an Elf to survive the loss of their spouse. If she is still alive, Kíli's true death could kill Tauriel. That is the only reason I care if he lives or dies."

Fíli felt a bit like the wind had been taken out of his bellows. "That...makes sense." _If_ Tauriel was still alive? He'd have to ask the Elf for an explanation of that later. He cleared his throat. "Alright. How do you propose to get us into Dale?"

"My father sends wagons full of supplies on a regular basis. We can use one of the supply wagons to smuggle you into the city."

Great. Smuggled into a city again. Hopefully this time wouldn't leave him stinking of fish and covered in stuff he didn't even want to think about.

As it turned out, instead he would end up smelling of cabbages and covered in hay, which was definitely an improvement over the experience of sneaking into Lake-Town. 

Legolas drove the wagon while the four Dwarves sat in the back camouflaged by hay bales and crates of cabbages and other vegetables. Kíli was still unconscious and Ori had curled up to take a nap, so that left Fíli and Tofa with a certain amount of privacy.

Fíli had heard how sensitive Elven hearing was, so he knew any conversation would be overheard no matter how quiet they were. He tapped Tofa on the wrist to get her attention and then signed, " _Opinion?_ " in his somewhat rusty Iglishmêk. He'd never used the Dwarven sign-language all that much--the Dwarves among the Company who had worked as miners or smiths were much better at Iglishmêk, since it had developed as a way to communicate in environments that were too loud to hear spoken language.

A flash of surprise crossed her face. She signed something back at him so quickly that he missed most of it other than the sign for Elf.

" _Repeat?_ " he signed.

More slowly this time, she signed, " _Who is the Elf?_ "

Fíli smacked himself in the forehead. He'd forgotten that Tofa had no reason to know Legolas from a hole in the ground. " _Wood Elf King's son._ "

Again, she signed too quickly for him at first, then caught herself and made an impatient sound before repeating, " _Can we trust him?_ "

Fíli shrugged. " _I think so. No choice._ "

She grimaced in acknowledgement. " _Who is--_ " she started spelling out Tauriel's name phonetically.

Fíli held up his hand to stop her. " _Will explain later._ " There was no way he was going to try to explain his brother's Elven lady love in his slow, laborious signing. Honestly, he didn't even want to explain it in any language. He loved his brother and would never stand in the way of his happiness, but why did the love of Kíli's life have to be an Elf?

" _Seems best option for now. Keep alert for trouble._ " She shrugged at him.

Fíli sighed. Yeah, that's what he'd figured.

They had to give up on signing once they got close enough to the city that they could be spotted from above. Buried completely in hay, Fíli concentrated on not sneezing as they slowly rolled through the gate. No one demanded to search the wagon, which he supposed was a definite advantage to having the Prince of the Woodland Realm driving their vehicle. The wagon picked up speed as they left the gate behind but it was still a slow journey into the city with nothing to do but try not to breathe in dust from the hay. And worry.

Legolas seemed to be sincere in his desire to help, but how much could they really trust an Elf? It did make Fíli feel better that the Elf had a somewhat selfish reason to want to help them. It was easier to accept that Legolas was doing this to help save his friend's life than because he was overcome with Elvish generosity over their plight. Fíli made a face at that thought.

That was strange, though, what Legolas had said about it being difficult for Elves to survive losing their spouses. Fíli and Kíli's da had died when Kíli had been just a baby and their mam hadn't wilted away like some delicate flower. She'd kept going, strong and determined as ever, and she hadn't just kept her children safe and secure, she'd helped others around them. Typically overdramatic of the Elves, Fíli thought. Dwarves were much more sensible in matters of love (and in everything else as well, of course.)

The wagon slowed again and made a turn. Judging by the echoes of the horse's hooves on the cobblestones, Fíli would guess that they had just entered a small courtyard. He waited for some signal that it was safe to emerge from their hay cocoon. 

There was a scraping sound--perhaps a gate being pulled closed?--and then the Elf knocked on the side of the wagon. "We have privacy."

Fíli dug himself out of the hay and with Ori's assistance pulled Kíli out of the space sheltered between two rows of crates where they had put him for safety's sake. After helping to lift Kíli down from the wagon, Fíli took stock of their situation.

They were indeed in a small courtyard with a thick wooden gate closed behind them. Windowless walls soared around them, interrupted by a single door. He would guess that this was an entrance used by servants based on their plain and somewhat dingy surroundings.

Bard's daughter Sigrid emerged from the door across the courtyard and hurried towards them. "Good, you were able to get past the front gates. Is that all of you? Somehow I expected a dozen Dwarves again. Oh no," she gasped as she spotted Kíli. "He looks worse than he did back in Lake-Town. I didn't even think that was possible."

"Thank you for being willing to help us once again," Fíli said with a bow. "I know we may not have left you with the best impression of Dwarves and I very much appreciate that you're still willing to help us after...everything."

"You helped save us when Smaug came. And I know that everything that happened afterwards was your uncle's fault, not yours." Fíli frowned at that but wasn't quite sure what part of it he could legitimately object to. "Come on, let's get your brother settled."

The door she had come through led to an empty and dusty-looking kitchen attached to a suite of rooms, likewise stale and disused-looking. They had clearly been cleaned up since the retaking of Dale, but not much had been done save to sweep the accumulated debris of decades of abandonment out of the rooms and ensure there were no animals nesting in the furniture. 

Sigrid led them to a door that opened off the kitchen. Fíli would guess its original purpose had been that of a storeroom but it now held a bed with a mattress of fresh-smelling straw and several moth-eaten but still serviceable blankets. Kíli stirred slightly as they settled him on the bed but his eyes did not open.

"What happened to him?" Sigrid's eyes were wide and concerned-looking.

Fíli shook his head, not wanting to burden her with the unpleasant details. "I don't entirely know," he said truthfully enough.

"Sigrid, could you fetch some broth or thin soup?" Legolas asked. "And you, the young one. Make yourself useful and boil some water."

That left only Fíli and Tofa in the room with Legolas and an unconscious Kíli. Legolas leveled a chilly blue stare at Fíli. "Explain to me what has happened to him."

Fíli brushed his brother's hair back off his forehead. Kíli looked grey and waxy, his chest slowly rising and falling. "He's been drugged," he told the Elf bluntly. "Dáin has some pet healer--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, there is a mysterious healer with Dáin who appears to have power of some kind over him. He's been holding us prisoner. Me, he only drugged when he wanted me to stop causing a ruckus. Kíli...I really don't know why he drugged Kíli or what it was meant to do, but apparently he's either been unconscious or talking to people who aren't there for a while now."

The Elf nodded, his face very still and cold. "I knew there was something off about Dáin since the battle, but I did not realize it was this extreme. That will have to be dealt with."

"What, by the Elves? You can keep your noses out of Dwarven business, how's that."

"What affects the stability of Dale and Erebor affects the Woodland Realm as well. But we can discuss that later. Please give me some room so that I can concentrate on your brother's condition."

Fíli backed off, going to lean against the wall next to Tofa.

"I cannot concentrate while you are hovering over me," the Elf said testily. "Kindly remove yourselves from this room."

Fíli made a face at him, but decided not to antagonize the Elf while he was healing his brother. "Come on, Tofa."

They went out into the kitchen and sat down at the long trestle table that stretched the length of the room. Ori was busy hanging a full pot of water over a freshly laid fire in a large and smoke-stained fireplace on the other end of the room. Sigrid had not yet returned from her errand, so the two of them had some privacy to talk. 

Fíli slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. "Mahal, I hope the Elf can heal Kíli."

Sitting across the table from him, Tofa said, "He seemed confident that he could."

"I know, it's just..."

"I know." She shrugged at him. "Well, at least we didn't have to go all the way to Ered Luin to find allies."

He snorted quietly. "Would you have really come with us to Ered Luin?"

She looked offended. "I gave you my word that I would see your brother safe, princeling."

"I'm sorry." Fíli sighed. "I didn't mean to insult you again. Thank you for seeing us to safety. Where will you go now?"

She frowned down at her hands, folded on the table before her. "You still mean to go back into the mountain to try to find Thorin Oakenshield, even though he is almost certainly dead."

"My uncle is not dead. I will rescue him."

"Your only supporters are Ori, who is not bad in a pinch but young and barely trained, and your brother, who may or may not recover from his illness."

"He will recover."

She nodded, either conceding the point or deciding not to argue it. "Still, you have almost no supporters and Dáin has an army, not to mention the healer Skalgar. Those are terrible odds."

"I have to try. If we die, we die doing the right thing."

"You will fail, can you not see that?" Tofa's dark eyes were almost pleading.

Fíli shook his head. "I can't let myself believe that. I won't believe that."

She said something in a language Fíli assumed was Haradrim. He didn't need to speak the language to pick up that she was swearing to herself. "Another idealistic fool. Your kind will be the death of me yet."

"You don't have to help us," Fíli said, even though he hoped that she would. "As you said, this isn't your fight."

Tofa sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment and then opening them with an expression of determination on her face. "I will stay and fight for you." 

"But you're a mercenary. Why are you sticking your neck out for us?" Fíli swore at himself silently--was he _trying_ to talk her out of it?

"I made an oath a long time ago and I mean to fulfill it." She held up a hand to forestall him from speaking. "I will say no more on that. I give you my word that I will help you retake Erebor if I can."

He noticed she said nothing about rescuing Thorin. It was fine, though, even if she did not believe that Thorin still lived. Fíli would believe enough for both of them.

"Thank you." Fíli reached out his right hand across the table and clasped her forearm. She looked surprised for a moment and then turned her hand to clasp his forearm in a warrior's version of a handshake. "I appreciate your help more than I can say."

"Perhaps I am just as much a fool as you are, because I am actually beginning to believe we may not be completely doomed." Her eyes focused on something over his shoulder and she smiled suddenly, releasing his forearm and standing up. "My lady, let me give you a hand with that."

"Oh!" Backing through the door holding a heavy cookpot, Sigrid seemed flustered by Tofa neatly taking it from her hands. "You don't need to--"

"It is no trouble at all," the mercenary said with a smile just on the edge of flirtatious. "Shall I put this on to heat?"

Fíli chuckled to himself as he watched Tofa effortlessly charm the girl. He doubted she meant anything more by it than a harmless flirtation. Judging by the silver at her temples and the crow's feet forming at the corners of her eyes, Tofa must be near as old as Fíli's mother if she was a day.

Legolas opened the door to the bedroom, leaning on the door handle as if he needed the support. "I have done as much as I can for the moment. Your brother will need rest and as much broth as you can get him to take."

Fíli was already on his feet and through the doorway to the room by the time Legolas had finished his sentence. "Kee," he breathed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Kíli did not respond to the childish nickname. He still appeared to be deeply unconscious, but his color looked better and his breathing sounded deeper than it had earlier. Fíli laid his palm on Kíli's forehead, relieved to feel that his brother's skin no longer felt cold and waxy.

"I'll get him to take some broth," Sigrid said quietly. 

Fíli looked up, surprised to find that Sigrid stood next to him carrying a bowl of liquid. He hadn't even heard her enter the room. "I can do it."

"It's no trouble." Sigrid tilted her head towards the kitchen. "You should probably talk to Prince Legolas now. I'll take care of your brother."

He hated to leave Kíli's side, but she had a point. Reluctantly, Fíli returned to the kitchen. 

Legolas was sitting at the long trestle table, drinking a mug of tea. It seemed strange to Fíli that the Elf should be doing something so utterly normal. Tofa and Ori had disappeared somewhere. 

Fíli sat down at the table across from the Elf and asked, "How is my brother?"

"Recovering in body. In soul, however...it is hard to say." Legolas looked troubled.

"What do you mean, in soul?"

"I am not a healer. I can only guess at something which someone with more experience might be able to determine with certainty. It seems that your brother's _fae_ , his soul, has somehow been separated from his body."

Fíli felt like he'd been hit with a hammer. "Will he die?"

"All mortals must die. But no, your brother will not die from this. I believe that he may even recover fully in time, which is very strange indeed. If this has been going on since the Battle, I'd expect him to be either already dead or a mindless husk barely clinging to life."

"Thank you for that mental image," Fíli growled.

"There is only explanation I can think of for your brother's survival, and it gives me great hope that Tauriel may yet live."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you know that she's alive? Isn't she in Mirkwood?"

"Tauriel was banished from the Woodland Realm for aiding you and your kin against my father's orders. And you did not even know what she sacrificed for you, did you? How very typical."

Fíli glared. "Well, I was a bit busy almost bleeding to death and then being held prisoner."

Looking disgruntled, Legolas said, "I will admit that there was no way you could have known. However, I am sure that none of the rest of your people realized what she had sacrificed for them and they had no such excuse. At any rate, Tauriel disappeared directly after the battle before I could catch her. I tracked her to Mount Gundabad and into the Orc tunnels, where I lost her trail completely. Even with the bulk of their army destroyed at Erebor, those tunnels were still teeming with Orcs. I had no way of knowing if she lived or died."

"But now you believe that she's alive and you think it has something to do with my brother?"

"I believe that there is a link between their souls which has kept your brother alive."

That really didn't make any sense. "What, because they're married?"

"To put it in the simplest possible terms, yes--which means that Tauriel is almost certainly alive." It almost seemed that the Elf was on the verge of smiling, and then he remembered that he was talking to a Dwarf and scowled. "If Tauriel dies because of your brother, she will be avenged."

"So noted." Why did Fíli always end up dealing with crazy Elves? That implied though that there were sane Elves--and Fíli was really not convinced that there were any.

Legolas inclined his head gracefully. "I will need to check on your brother again later. See that I am not disturbed for a few hours."

Watching him walk toward one of the two hallways that led from the kitchen, Fíli asked, "What, you're staying here?"

 

He thought the Elf would walk away without answering, but at the last moment before leaving the room Legolas turned and nodded. "For the moment, yes."

Fíli snorted and shook his head. Elves.

Pushing open the door to the bedroom, he found that Sigrid had pulled a rickety-looking chair over to the bedside. A mostly full bowl of broth sat next to her on a low table.

"He's still sleeping," she said. "I was able to get him to take some broth though."

"Thank you. We owe you a great debt."

"You saved my sister and brother from the dragon. You do not owe me anything."

Fíli bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Still, I am grateful. Does your father know that we are here?" She nodded. "Can we meet with him?"

"I'm afraid not. You must understand, this puts my father in a very difficult situation," Sigrid said in response to Fíli's frustrated growl. "Dáin chose to honor the agreement that Thorin Oakenshield made with the people of Lake-Town. He could have refused but he didn't. We owe him a debt and so my father cannot openly act against Dáin. We must keep your stay in Dale a secret."

"I see." So much for the friendship of Men.

"That does not mean that my father does not wish to support you, he simply cannot do it openly." Frowning, her voice sharpened as she asked, "Do you think that I could arrange for sanctuary in these rooms and privacy for your brother to heal without my father's knowledge and support? He wants you to succeed in taking back Erebor from Dáin."

"And this way, if we fail he loses nothing." Fíli thought that he had managed to hide the bitterness in his voice but judging from her reaction, apparently he had not succeeded.

Sigrid stood, drawing her mantle around her with an air of offended dignity. "My father is risking our people's alliance with Dáin in order to help you. Is it Dwarven custom to spit in the face of those who offer you their aid?"

"No, it is not. I apologize, Sigrid. I understand that Bard must do what he can to keep his people safe." Fíli held his hand out, meeting her eyes as sincerely as he could. She wavered for a moment and then took his hand. "Thank you for helping me and my brother. You have the gratitude of the Line of Durin."

Sigrid blushed, smiling shyly. "Apology accepted."

There was a quiet groan from the direction of the bed. Fíli rushed to his brother's side, hovering over him anxiously and watching as his eyelids fluttered. "Kíli?"

"Fee," Kíli slurred. He blinked several times, his eyes looking unfocused. "You're alive."

"Of course I'm alive." Fíli sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the sweat-soaked and tangled hair away from his brother's face. "How are you feeling, _nadadith_?"

Kíli smacked his lips together and made a disgusted face. "Like something died in my mouth."

"Water?" Fíli asked Sigrid. She brought over a cup and between the two of them they were able to get a few mouthfuls of water into Kíli before he shook his head and pulled away from the cup.

"Where are we?" Kíli asked hoarsely. "Lake-Town?"

"No, we're in Dale." Fíli exchanged a look with Sigrid and realized why his brother might be confused. "Bard is the Lord of Dale now, remember?"

"Oh." Kíli's eyes fluttered closed and he seemed to drift off for a few moments. "Tauriel's coming."

Fíli chewed on his lip, trying to decide if lying and letting his brother have false hope was better than telling him the truth, that they had no idea where his Elven love was. "Tauriel isn't here," he finally compromised.

"I know." Kíli's eyes were still closed but he was smiling as he slurred, "Taur's coming an' Bi'bo an' _'amad_..." He trailed off, breathing slowly but steadily as he fell asleep.

Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The guards said he was hallucinating, talking to people who weren't really there," he muttered. He felt a gentle hand resting on his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Sigrid smiling at him encouragingly.

"He's just a little confused. It's not uncommon in people getting over a serious illness. He'll get better as he recovers."

"I hope you're right." He couldn't explain to a non-Dwarf his fear that madness truly did run in the Line of Durin. Fíli made himself smile, though he guessed that it wasn't terribly convincing based on the worried look on the girl's face. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Go get some rest. There's fresh bedding and clean clothing to change into, though it probably won't fit all that well." She shrugged apologetically. "Ori heated some water and you can use that to wash up."

Fíli hesitated, loathe to leave Kíli now that he'd just found him.

"I'll watch your brother." Her eyes were kind and very blue, he noticed. 

Fíli shook his head, blinking, and suddenly realized how exhausted he was. "Alright. Wake me up the moment anything changes."

"I will. Go on, get some sleep."

Fíli barely remembered washing up and changing into an over-sized nightshirt. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Sindarin:  
> fae - spirit
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> 'amad - mother  
> nadadith - little brother
> 
> ***
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> The conversation between Legolas and Thranduil at the end of the movie did not happen exactly the same way in Flowers continuity (particularly since I am using the book canon age for Aragorn, who is currently 11 years old and living in Rivendell.)


	15. Across the Mountains

"I don't think she's sleeping." 

Nori gestured at the red-headed Elf who still lay curled up in her bedroll even though the rest of the camp had started stirring with the first pre-dawn light. "What do you think she's doing, meditating or something? With her eyes closed?"

Bofur looked stubborn. "She could be."

"Fine, I will ask her if she was sleeping when she wakes up. From her sleep, which she is in." Nori shooed Bofur away and sat down in a spot where he could keep an eye on the Elf girl. He had no idea where the other two Elves were. For all he knew they were roosting in the trees.

Left with nothing to do except wait for her to wake up, Nori tried to see what Kíli saw in the Elf. She was completely bare of face of course, but some Dwarven women had less whiskers than others and Nori wasn't one to judge. She was tall, but not obnoxiously so--a tall Dwarf like Kíli might actually come up to her shoulder. The scar along the side of her face stood as proof of her valor on the battlefield and added some desperately needed character to the typical Elven blankness of her face. Her hair was the most attractive thing about her: very long, thick, and a vivid shade of red that Nori would have to admit that he rather envied (if he was to be honest, which he wasn't as a rule.)

If you ignored the fact that she was an Elf, he supposed she wasn't unattractive. Well, hopefully that meant that Tauriel and Kíli's children wouldn't be completely ugly.

The Elf stirred a little and her eyes fluttered open. "Good morning," she said, sitting up and looking a little confused as to why Nori was watching her.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes." She smiled as she stretched her arms above her head. "Very well, in fact."

"So you _do_ sleep. Bofur owes me five coin." Nori grinned. Easy money.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We had a bet going. I always heard that Elves don't sleep."

"Elves can go for an extended amount of time without it, if there is need. I did not judge the current situation to require that level of vigilance. But yes, we do sleep sometimes."

"That's all I needed to know. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pry a few coins out of Bofur's hand." Nori rolled to his feet and bowed to her.

Tauriel nodded to him graciously. "Best of luck with that," she said with an amused gleam in her eye.

Nori sauntered away, whistling tunelessly. Not entirely hideous and she had at least a hint of a sense of humor. If Prince Kíli had to fall in love with an Elf, he definitely could have chosen worse.

"Pay up, Bofur. You heard her--she was actually asleep, not just meditating with her eyes closed or whatnot." Seeing that Bofur looked reluctant to part with the small purse in his grasp, Nori crooked his fingers at him as he held his hand out expectantly. "Come now, a bet's a bet. And you'd better not have mixed in any Dunland coins with that. Dunland marks are more base metal than silver."

"And who was it that tried paying me with a Rohan coin so badly shaved it was almost an oval?" Bofur held the pouch over Nori's outstretched hand until he made an impatient noise and snatched it right out of Bofur's fingers.

Counting his coins, Nori said, "I told you, that coin came from Gloin."

Crouched nearby redistributing the weight in her packs, Dís said absently, "Don't be ridiculous. Gloin is much better at shaving his coins than that."

Bofur hooted with laughter. "Her Highness has you dead to rights on that one!"

She straightened up, frowning. "No more of that. It was fine when we were in Rivendell but you need to remember to call me Dís."

Bofur tugged on the earflaps of his hat. "It just don't feel right not giving you the proper respect." 

Nori just shrugged at her. He was perfectly comfortable not giving anyone their "proper respect," Kings and Princesses included.

Dís raised her eyebrows at them. "The lives of my sons and my brother are at stake. Call me Dís."

"Yes, ma'am," Bofur mumbled.

Nori gave her his best _no-I-didn't-have-my-hand-on-your-coinpurse_ smile. "Yes, Dís."

She considered them for a few moments with the hint of a smile at the edge of her lips. "Better."

Bofur let out a huge breath once she stalked away. "You want to remind me why _she_ wasn't in charge of the Company?"

"Don't be daft. Stealing the Arkenstone out from underneath a sleeping dragon's nose was a fool's plan." Nori jerked his head towards Dís. "Does she look like a fool to you?"

Bofur scratched his head. "You may have a point there."

***

After several days of travel in perfect early summer weather they reached the rocky paths of the High Pass. The mountains were blessedly quiet: no storm giants this time, though it did finally begin to rain. 

At the end of their first day traversing the pass, Elladan and Elrohir indicated that they were to stay in a cave in the mountain which would fit the entire party with their horses and ponies. To say that Bilbo was a little leery of that idea was an understatement.

"You've checked for goblins and such, right? Made sure there aren't any trapdoors? The last time I stayed in a cave in the mountains did not turn out well for anyone involved." He shuddered at the memory of the goblins...and even worse, that wretched creature with whom he'd played a riddle game for his life down in the roots of the mountain.

Elrohir nodded patiently. "It is safe, Master Bilbo. See these symbols scratched into the rock here?"

Bilbo squinted at the collection of seemingly random scratches on the wall of the cave. "Yes? What do they indicate?"

"These are Ranger trail-signs. This cave is one that they use for shelter when they cross the High Pass. It is safe, I promise you."

Well, there wasn't much he could say to that. Strange folk though they were, the Rangers certainly knew how to survive in the wild. Left at a bit of a loose end, Bilbo had just begun wandering over to give Bofur a hand with the cooking when he spotted Princess Dís heading toward him with a determined look in her eyes. Bilbo gulped and straightened nervously.

Hoping that his hair was at least as neat and tidy as could be expected after a day in the saddle, he tugged on the lapels of his coat and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them since that might look defensive. His arms ended up hanging at his sides awkwardly.

"Master Baggins." Dís nodded his head to him gravely and he jerked his head in response.

"Princess Dís."

"A moment of your time?" 

"Of course." Feeling doomed, Bilbo allowed her to lead him to a relatively secluded corner of the cave.

"You must remember not to call me by my title from here on out. Too dangerous if it slips out around anyone we don't want to know my identity." She considered him for a minute with a neutral expression. Bilbo tried not to shift uncomfortably. "And even after we are done with this journey, you should call me by my name. We are, after all, family-in-law."

"Errr. Ah. Yes." He coughed nervously. "Then I must insist that you call me Bilbo."

"Bilbo, then." 

"And I shall call you Dís." For a moment he relaxed, thinking this oddly terrifying encounter was over and that she would return to her previous state of barely acknowledging his existence. 

His fragile hopes were shattered as she asked the question he had most dreaded hearing from her.

"Why did you steal the Arkenstone?"

Bilbo looked around hoping for an escape from this conversation, but there didn't appear to be a way out short of slipping on his ring and running for it. "Didn't Nori and Bofur tell you? I gave it to Bard of Laketown so that he could trade it for my share of the treasure, so that no one would have to go to war over the gold."

"Yes, but why did you feel the need to hold the Arkenstone over my brother's head? You had earned your share of the treasure, had you not?"

Just when he thought this conversation couldn't get any more uncomfortable. "Well, yes, but Thorin wasn't...he wasn't himself. He refused to let go of any part of the treasure. He was very adamant about that."

Dís pinned him in place with painfully familiar-looking blue eyes. "Tell me the truth, without any foolish attempts to be kind by honey-coating it. Had Thorin fallen into madness?"

He winced, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and once again giving serious thought to putting his ring on in order to escape from this conversation. "He had...he...I'm sorry, but...yes. Thorin was gold-mad."

Looking pained, she nodded to him. "Thank you for your honesty."

Bilbo generally tried not to think about Thorin's behavior after they reached Erebor, although there appeared to be nothing he could do about the recurring nightmares. But Dís deserved to know that her brother had regained his sanity, at least for a short time. "I think he was better by the...by the end, though. Before he was taken away by Dáin's men, Thorin apologized for everything that he had said and done."

"What did he do when he was gold-mad?" Dís asked, cutting straight to the heart of the things that Bilbo did not want to think about. 

"He sort of--well--ah, he threatened me with a sword when I first came out of the treasure chamber and told him that I hadn't found the Arkenstone. And after the dragon was gone, it was all that he would talk about. Where was the Arkenstone. We had to find the Arkenstone. He started suspecting that one of us had stolen it, which was a more than a bit terrifying since I had in fact nicked it for his own good." 

A bit terrifying, hah. More like one of the most terrifying experiences of his life, and he could actually count "running from a fire-breathing dragon" among those.

"We were exhausted, running low on food, and none of us knew whether Fíli, Kíli, Bofur, and Óin had survived the dragon's attack on Laketown. And meanwhile Thorin had us searching the treasure chamber day and night looking for that bloody stone." He flushed red as he realized what he had just said in front of a lady. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I do apologize--"

"For what? For saying "bloody"? I can assure you that I have heard worse." The faint amusement dropped off her face almost immediately. "What else did he do? I can tell that there is more that you're not saying." Dís was nearly as intimidating as her brother when her full attention was engaged on a person, Bilbo thought.

"He, errr..." Bilbo crossed his arms again, feeling a chill go up his spine. "After I told him that I had taken the Arkenstone and given it to Bard, he shouted at me and...well...he." His throat seemed to have closed up a little. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to continue. "He picked me up, and uh...and shook me, and threatened to. Threatened to throw me off the wall."

Now that-- _that_ \--had been the most terrifying experience of his life. The ground had seemed so very far away and Thorin had towered over him in his fury. The look of bitter betrayal and hatred in his eyes...Bilbo feared he would never be able to forget it.

"I see." She shook her head, frowning grimly. "My brother must have been far gone into madness, to do such a thing to his spouse."

Feeling awkward, Bilbo scuffed his foot on the back of his ankle. It still seemed strange to him that the Dwarves should declare him Thorin's spouse based on the simple fact that they had lain together. During their time together Thorin had spoken words of love that Bilbo would forever hold precious in his heart, but never once had he spoken of marriage. To be honest Bilbo felt like an imposter, traveling with Thorin's sister on the strength of his supposed marriage when he and Thorin had never discussed anything of the sort. But there was no way that he would accept being left behind if there were any chance of rescuing Thorin.

Thorin, who would no doubt be furious with him once he learned that Bilbo had been pretending to be his husband. Oh, Thorin had taken back his words and actions that day on the wall, but it was one thing to swear forgiveness on one's deathbed and quite another to live with that forgiveness day after day.

Well, there was no sense borrowing trouble, as his mother used to say. Trouble would come soon enough on its own.

Dís had been silent for a few minutes, frowning to herself and appearing to be deep in thought. Now she asked, "What did you mean when you said that you had stolen the Arkenstone for my brother's own good?"

"Before Smaug died, the dragon told me that the Arkenstone would taint Thorin and drive him mad."

" _Smaug_ claimed that the Arkenstone would drive Thorin mad? The dragon could have been lying." 

"For what purpose? Smaug was planning to roast me alive." Bilbo spread his arms out, demonstrating his general lack of physical impressiveness. "He just wanted a bit of fun with his food first. He had no reason to lie."

"If what the dragon told you is true...then that could be a very important piece of information." Pacing back and forth, Dís mused aloud, "The Arkenstone, cursed. It is possible. I was very young when we fled Erebor, but I remember hearing gossip that my grandfather's moods became erratic after he set the Arkenstone over his throne. Still, that would not explain my father's--" She broke off with a glance at Bilbo. "Well. There is no way to be certain. But we can certainly try locking that stone in the farthest vaults of Erebor and see if that has any effect on my brother."

"Or toss it in the sea. Bury it somewhere where it will never be found." Bilbo shuddered, remembering the eerie _singing_ noise that had emanated from the Arkenstone. "There is something very wrong with that stone."

"Thank you, Bilbo. You have given me much to consider." Dís met his eyes for a long moment and then thumped him on the shoulder before walking off.

Bilbo stared after her. He thought that had gone...well? Not horribly, anyway. He'd survived, at least. Smiling to himself, he went to help Bofur out with dinner.

***

After emerging from the other side of the High Pass, they started the long climb down the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. 

Tauriel and Bilbo rode side-by-side in the middle of the string of horses and ponies. Well aware that they had been placed there because it was the safest position, Tauriel tried not to resent the implication that she required extra protection simply because she was pregnant.

"Well, that wasn't nearly as bad as my first time across the Misty Mountains!" Bilbo said with a cheerful smile. "I'll be honest, I had been worried that the only reason we weren't attacked by goblins and storm giants on my return trip from Erebor was that that time I was traveling with a Wizard."

"It was much easier than my trip across the mountains," Tauriel agreed absently. After a long pause she realized that Bilbo was staring at her in silent incredulity. "What?"

"Yes it was easier, because last time you were on foot! How did it not occur to you that perhaps setting out on a journey across half of Middle Earth, you should procure yourself a horse?"

She shrugged, feeling oddly defensive. "I did not set out with the intent to travel so far. I decided to thin out the Orc population in Gundabad since the majority of their army had been destroyed during the battle at Erebor, and then it just...happened that way."

"How does traveling all the way from the Misty Mountains to the Shire "just happen"?"

"To be more accurate, I traveled from Mount Gundabad to Mithlond, and from thence to the Shire." Tauriel regretted her words as soon as she saw the look of realization on Bilbo's face.

"Mithlond...you mean the Grey Havens."

"That is the name the city is known by in the common tongue, yes."

His voice was quiet, but she was well aware it was not quiet enough to escape being overheard by the other Elves in their party. "You didn't tell me that you'd considered sailing to Valinor."

She winced, feeling sure that Elladan and Elrohir would think her an utter fool for her impetuous decision to travel to Mithlond. "It does not matter, _mellon_. I did not sail." 

Meeting Bilbo's eyes, she tried to communicate _let it go_ silently. To her relief, he dropped the subject for the moment. She had no doubt that he would have more questions for her later.

It had been a foolish plan, she could see that now. Silvan Elves did not sail to the Undying Lands, choosing instead to become one with the forest when they faded. The shipbuilders were not her kin; there was no reason why they would have offered her a place on one of their white ships. She had not been thinking clearly, too overcome by grief to do anything more than seek escape: first by her self-destructive foray through Mount Gundabad, and second by her foolish plan to travel to Mithlond and seek passage to Valinor.

King Thranduil had always told her that she was too impulsive, that she needed to think ahead and plan rather than just reacting. How amused he would be that she had finally admitted he was right about her all along.

She shook her head, scoffing at herself. As if King Thranduil would care that she had finally admitted that he was right. As far as her King was concerned, Tauriel had been dead to him the moment he banished her from the Woodland Realm.

The pain of her banishment still ached in her heart, a wound that she thought might never heal. 

Long ago, when Tauriel had first been brought to the palace after her parents and her clan had been killed by an Orc raid, King Thranduil had been kind to a newly orphaned Silvan Elf. He had been kinder in those days, before the Queen left the palace permanently and the chill of winter seemed to settle into his soul. Even with as cold and hard as Thranduil had become, she had still craved his approval and the brief flashes of warmth in his eyes when he told her that she had done well. She had loved him, not quite as a father but with a fierce devotion to her King. 

The day that they had captured the company of Thorin Oakenshield, King Thranduil had warned her against allowing his son to form an affection for her. Even though she was certain that Legolas felt nothing more for her than he would for a dear friend, some part of her foolish heart had ached at the thought of finally belonging. Of finally being a part of their family rather than an awkward mix of almost-family and mere subject.

And now she was nothing at all to the Woodland Realm. King Thranduil had turned his back on her. Legolas, her dearest friend, her brother in heart if not in blood, had refused to turn his back on her with the rest, but the look in his eyes still haunted her. He had begged her to give up her foolish attachment to the Dwarves and throw herself on King Thranduil's mercy. She feared that he might never forgive her for what he had seen as betrayal.

Though she had kept her own council, not wanting to burden Bilbo any further, she was worried about what would happen when they traveled through Mirkwood on the way to Erebor. Lord Elrond had assured them that they were protected by treaties covering the use of the road the Dwarves had built across Mirkwood in the ancient days before the fall of Eregion. Despite the treaties, part of her feared that if Thranduil discovered that she had dared to step foot into Mirkwood he would have her tossed into the deepest, darkest part of the prison and throw away the key.

She felt the strange, fluttering sensation of the baby stirring restlessly inside her womb. Tauriel stroked the side of her stomach and murmured soothing words until the baby calmed again.

"Is the baby restless?" Bilbo asked.

"Just a little. I was thinking of somewhat...stressful subjects and I suspect that may have upset my _pîn elloth_." She shook her head. "It is nothing, Bilbo."

"If you say so, my dear." His eyes were sharp but kind. "I'll make my grandmother's Shire-famous mint tea when we stop for dinner, how does that sound?"

"Which grandmother would that be, Took or Baggins?"

"Ah, well, that is a story..." Bilbo said as he began expounding on the differences between the Hobbit clans.

She knew that his chatter was meant as a distraction: something to turn her mind away from the dark thoughts that plagued her. Tauriel felt deep gratitude welling up in her heart that despite all she had lost in the previous year, she had found a true friend here in the most unexpected of beings.

***

Bilbo hadn't expected to see Beorn again after his return trip from Erebor after the battle. The huge bear-man had accompanied Bilbo and Gandalf to the western edge of Mirkwood and they had stayed for several days in Beorn's house before continuing on. 

Showing more tact and consideration than Bilbo would have expected of him, Beorn had engaged Gandalf in long conversations about history and the current state of the world, allowing Bilbo the peace and quiet he needed as he grieved for all that he had lost.

Before they had left, Beorn had asked Gandalf to break the shackle he still wore upon his wrist.

"Why did you never have it removed before?" Curiosity stirred Bilbo from the grey haze that had fallen over his thoughts ever since Dáin Ironfoot had emerged from the Lonely Mountain and announced that despite all of their efforts, Thorin and his sister-sons had not survived their injuries.

Beorn's hands tightened into fists as he spoke. "Because it was a reminder that Azog the Defiler still walked the earth. I swore that I would never remove my chains until the day that accursed monster and his spawn had finally been destroyed, just as they destroyed my people." 

Lifting up his right arm, he rotated his wrist as he examined the cuff with a thoughtful frown. "It has been so long that I have worn this shackle, I almost cannot imagine being without it."

"It is far past time for you to be freed from this remnant of evil," Gandalf said, sounding very cross indeed. "Place your wrist upon the table and hold still." 

Speaking words of strange power in a booming voice, Gandalf raised his staff high into the air and slammed the head of the staff down on the cuff around Beorn's wrist. 

There was a great cracking noise and a flash of brilliant light. When the spots cleared from Bilbo's vision, he saw that the metal ring lay smashed into several pieces on the table. Despite the violence with which the metal had been broken, Beorn's wrist was completely undamaged other than a ring of old scars where the shackle had been. 

Beorn lifted his arm up and flexed his wrist, a wondering look in his deep amber eyes. A great tension seemed to seep from his frame and for the first time, Bilbo saw him truly smile. "You have my thanks, Wizard. I will count you as a true friend from this day forward."

Looking very pleased with himself, Gandalf lit his pipe with a flame coaxed from the head of his staff. "Thank you, Beorn of the Bear-Shifters. I know how rare a gift your kind's friendship is."

"And I will count you a true friend as well, Master Hobbit!" Beaming, Beorn made as if to sweep Bilbo into his arms. At the no doubt horrified look on Bilbo's face, the skinchanger guffawed and dropped to one knee instead, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You must forgive me for my for my exuberance. You remind me of one of my bunnies! Small and adorable, but just as loath to be picked up and cuddled."

Bilbo glared at him. "I am not a rabbit," he said with great dignity.

Beorn appeared to find this immensely funny and referred to Bilbo as "Little Bunny" from that moment on.

Now, as they finished crossing the great river at the old ford and paused for a few minutes to gather themselves before moving on, an immense bear crested a ridge not far from them. The creature raised its nose in the air, scenting them, and then started down the hillside at a deceptively fast amble.

All three Elves drew their bows almost in unison, sighting upon the gigantic bear.

Aghast, it took Bilbo a moment to find his voice. "No! No, don't shoot!"

Tauriel lowered her bow, looking at him with a concerned wrinkle between her brows. "Bilbo? Do you know this creature?" 

"Yes! This is Beorn." Bilbo darted between Elladan and Elrohir, both of whom still had their bows drawn, and into the path of the oncoming bear. "Beorn is a friend of Gandalf's. Do not shoot him."

The bear slowed to a stop a few paces from him and reared onto its hind feet, looming horrifically against the sky. Bilbo's knees shook with terror as he realized that without the shackle around its front leg, it was no longer possible to be absolutely sure that this was the skinchanger and not an actual bear. "...Beorn?"

The moment stretched out, the Elves' bowstrings creaking as they drew back to full extension, and then the bear made a noise somewhere between barking and laughing and began to change right before their eyes.

The shape-changing process was just as fascinating as it was horrifying. Muscles writhed, limbs grew as its trunk shrank, and fur receded in waves. Bilbo could hear the sound of bones breaking and unidentifiable things squelching as the bear transformed into Beorn's familiar shape. 

Unfortunately, it turned out that the skinchanger's clothing did not transform with him. His transformation complete, Beorn stood before them--huge, hairy, and unapologetically naked.

"Little Bunny! You've brought friends!"

Bilbo covered his eyes in absolute mortification. 

Behind him, he could hear Bofur and Nori beginning to guffaw, followed a moment later by the rare sound of Tauriel's laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> pîn elloth - little flower 
> 
> ***
> 
> Additional notes: 
> 
> My backstory for Thranduil's wife was written before the release of The Hobbit: BOTFA and is now AU for the movieverse. The full story is told in my fanfic "Lady of the Roses." The condensed version is that Thranduil's wife, Queen Meriliel, took Tauriel in as a foster child after her parents were killed. Later, Meriliel separated from Thranduil when he turned away the Dwarves and Lake-Men after Smaug destroyed Dale and Erebor. Meriliel now lives in what was originally her summer manor in the northern part of Mirkwood, surrounded by a wall of roses.


	16. The Bear King

"Beorn, it's so good to see you again! Only, perhaps if we could see not quite so _much_ of you." Bilbo looked up at the sky, away from the huge and very much naked skinchanger.

Beorn's laugh was just as massive as his body. "I cannot carry trousers with me in bear form! What does it matter whether I wear my fur or my skin?"

"There are ladies present!"

The bear-shifter looked past him and raised his chin, mouth open slightly as if scenting the air. "Yes, that is true. The she-Elf is with cub."

"Child. Not cub," Bilbo corrected. He winced, anticipating an outraged protest from Tauriel (either to the term "she-Elf" or to her baby being referred to as a "cub"), but to his surprise she kept her peace. 

"Child, cub, what does it matter?" Beorn shrugged.

Bilbo drew breath to expostulate and then paused as he realized that to a race that shifted between Man and bear, there probably was no real difference.

"Here now, I believe this will fit if you just wrap it around your waist," Nori said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with a woven plaid blanket and handing it to Beorn. 

The thief backed up to stand next to Bilbo and muttered, "Not that I care too much about propriety, but the look on Dori's face when I tell him that his blanket was used to cover up Beorn's twig and two berries should be hysterical." Bilbo gave him a chiding look, but Nori grinned back at him unrepentantly.

Beorn finished wrapping the blanket around his waist and tucking the end under to make a sort of improvised kilt. "Better?"

"Much," Bilbo said sincerely.

The group gathered around the huge bear-man, so tall that he towered over even Lord Elrond's sons. Bilbo kept a sharp eye out for any attempts on Beorn's part to pick him up and cuddle him. There would be none of that nonsense with _this_ Hobbit, thank you very much.

After the requisite round of introductions was made, Beorn told him, "I did not expect to see you again, my small friend! I thought you planned to return to your green country and never cross the mountains again."

"I wasn't planning to but then, well, I got a bit of unexpected news from Erebor."

Beorn's face sobered. "Be careful if you travel to Erebor. The Ravens have brought me worrisome news."

" _You_ can speak the language of the Ravens?" Dís asked. Bilbo couldn't tell from her tone whether she was impressed or annoyed.

"All creatures have a language of their own. Most do not care to listen." Beorn's tone made his implication clear--that _Dwarves_ did not care to listen.

"The royal family of Erebor knows the language of the Ravens. Before Smaug came, the Ravens of the Lonely Mountains were our allies. What news have they brought you of Erebor?"

"Dark tidings," Beorn said slowly. "The Dwarves do not honor their ancient treaties. They drive the Ravens off with rocks and even arrows."

"Dáin." Dís's eyes narrowed to slits. "My cousin will have much to answer for when I get my hands on him."

"It is more than just a petty Dwarven King. Something is rotten in that Mountain. The Ravens can sense it." Beorn frowned at Bilbo. "I do not think it is safe for you or the female who is with young to travel there."

Bilbo could practically feel Tauriel bristling at the implication that she might need extra protection because of her condition. "And yet travel there we must," he said hastily. "Thank you for your warning, Beorn."

"I cannot leave my lands for long, but I will escort you as far as the edge of the forest, Little Bunny."

Hearing choked snorts from the direction of Bofur and Nori, Bilbo sighed. He was quite certain that they were never going to let him live that nickname down. "We would appreciate that, Beorn."

They gathered themselves up and started riding again with the skinchanger striding along beside Bilbo's little pony. Even in Man-form, Beorn easily matched the walking speed of the pony. 

They chatted pleasantly about Beorn's animals for a while. Beorn had named them all and even claimed he could speak with them, a claim that Bilbo had thought was pure bunkum until Dís's conversation with him about speaking to the Ravens. Then Elladan, followed by his brother, dropped back to ride beside Beorn. 

Elladan and Tauriel greeted each other with the same careful, distant courtesy they'd been using since the Elf lord's admission to her of his infatuation. Bilbo supposed that there was no way around the situation being a little awkward, no matter that Elladan had sworn he would never trouble Tauriel with his feelings for her.

Elladan asked Beorn, "I do not think I have met one of your kind before. By what name are your people called?"

"There are no others like me, not anymore. But once we were called Skinchangers."

"None at all? My brother and I have heard tales of Men who change form in our travels through Rhudaur."

"Bah!" Beorn made a disgusted noise. "Werewolves and hedge witches, not true Skinchangers. Thanks to Azog and the rest of his filthy kind, I am the last of my people."

"When we return to Imladris we will ask our father if he has heard of any other Skinchangers."

"Do as you wish," Beorn said indifferently. "You will find that there are none left but me."

Bilbo couldn't even imagine being so entirely alone. The thought of the Shire lying empty and desolate made him shudder. He shook his head to rid himself of the disturbing thought and groped for a less distressing topic of conversation. "Have you had any problems with Orcs since the battle?"

"No. They have retreated to their lairs in the mountains. Would that I could track them to their lairs and dig them out, but that is a task beyond me."

Elladan and Elrohir were very interested to learn this and the conversation quickly turned to a discussion of methods of fighting the Orcs. Tauriel joined in with the Mirkwood perspective on the matter and soon the conversation became rather more bloodthirsty than Bilbo found entirely comfortable. He manufactured an excuse to drop back and speak with Nori, who was riding alone behind them.

"Not in the mood for a discussion of the best way to ambush Orcs?" Nori gave him a sidelong smirk.

"It isn't a hobby of mine, no."

"I think it's more of a vocation to that lot. Don't misunderstand me, I hate Orcs just as much as the next Dwarf, but I do have, as you say, other hobbies." The thief made a coin appear from seemingly nowhere, flipping it in the air and rolling it across his knuckles.

"Is that really a hobby for you? I thought it was more of a vocation."

"Thieving?" Nori made a noncommittal noise. "I count it more as a hobby than anything."

Bilbo gave him a look of disbelief. "Really?"

The thief shrugged, the gesture rolling across his shoulders. "I won't lie, it can be a ridiculous amount of fun and I do so love shiny objects. But now that Dori and Ori are settled and we're the Heroes of Erebor, it's not as if I need to steal to keep us afloat any longer. I can pursue...other interests."

"Such as?" 

But Nori would only smile enigmatically. 

"Fine, keep your secrets. I know you said your brothers are doing well in Erebor, but how is the rest of the company doing?"

"Bifur and Bombur are well. Bifur has his own toyshop and Bombur's tavern is thriving. Dáin's men are watching the nobles so I haven't seen as much of them. I hear that Gloin and Óin are making the best of it; Óin is running a free clinic that Gloin is funding. Balin is right in the thick of the plotting, which of course is exactly where he prefers to be." 

Nori paused. His tone when he resumed his recitation was much more serious than Bilbo was accustomed to from the normally sarcastic, flippant thief. "Dwalin on the other hand...I don't think he's doing well. From what I heard, he's drunk more often than not."

"Thorin was his cousin, wasn't he?" Bilbo felt guilty that he hadn't given more thought to the grief of the other members of the Company. He had found over the years that grief had a way of shrinking your world down until all you could see was what you had lost, and not that others had lost just as much as you.

"Aye, his cousin and his best friend. Thorin's death--his apparent death, anyway--was rough on Dwalin."

Bilbo was surprised by the note of concern in his voice. "I thought that you and Dwalin didn't get along."

Nori laughed. His voice had returned to its usual slyness as he said with a wink, "Oh, I wouldn't say that exactly."

There was no chance for Bilbo to pry further into that intriguing statement. Beorn called him forward to answer a question about the Company's escape from the goblins of the Misty Mountains, and by the time that story was done he had quite forgotten about it.

***

She could almost smell the forest on the evening breeze when they halted for the night less than an hour's travel from the borders of Mirkwood. Tauriel found herself straining to hear the melodies of the forest, though she knew it was too far away for even an Elf to hear the sounds of foxes rustling through the fallen leaves and the birds singing their evening chorus.

For years she'd dreamed of escaping the bounds of the forest, of scaling mountains and crossing vast plains, perhaps one day even seeing the ocean--and now that she had, all that she wanted was to be home. But Mirkwood would never be her home again, would it?

Not wishing to inflict her her melancholic mood on anyone else, she shouldered her bow and announced her intention to go hunting for game in the lightly wooded land around their camp once they had gotten settled. 

"Not on your own, surely!" Bilbo objected.

Pushing away her feelings of annoyance, Tauriel tried to keep her voice pleasant as she answered, "I have hunted in the depths of Mirkwood on my own for hundreds of years. I do not need a nursemaid to keep me safe in the Wilderlands." Despite her best efforts, she knew that her tone had sharpened by the end of that sentence.

"May I hunt with you? Not that I wish to be your nursemaid," Beorn clarified, amusement lighting his deep golden eyes. "I am feeling restless and would like the chance to walk on all fours for a while."

Bilbo looked relieved at the thought that Tauriel would have someone with her. She hesitated for a moment, but there was something about the skinchanger that felt familiar and comforting to her despite the fact that they had only met that day. It was strange, but something in her seemed to recognize him as a kindred spirit. She nodded and gestured for Beorn to follow her.

She heard a thud of heavy woolen fabric hitting the ground followed by an appalled-sounding squawk from Bilbo, by which she inferred that Beorn had just shed his blanket wrap again.

Bilbo seemed to be utterly scandalized by the idea of being anything less than fully dressed around other people. She had thought he might expire from sheer embarrassment the time the party stopped to bathe in a small mountain lake. Smiling fondly as she pondered the odd quirks of Hobbits, Tauriel quickly left the little circle of firelight behind.

The moon sailing above the distant trees of Mirkwood was waxing gibbous, giving more than enough light to see by. She saw deer tracks aplenty and knew that there were rabbits nesting in a nearby raspberry bramble, but she did not bother to draw her bow. Hunting had only been an excuse to escape from the sometimes claustrophobic-feeling closeness of traveling with the same small group of people for weeks at a time. 

Tauriel paused in a clearing and waited for Beorn to catch up with her. He moved with surprising quietness for such a large creature, barely rustling the tall weeds as he moved. 

The stars drew her attention and she lost herself for a few minutes staring up at them. She usually felt closer to Kíli when she looked up at the night sky, remembering the memories they had shared during the Feast of Starlight and his favorite endearment for her. (" _Gimlinh_ ," he had whispered, and when she had asked him what it meant he made her swear never to tell anyone he'd taught her any of the Dwarven language before revealing that it meant "star-lady.") 

Tonight the stars seemed cold and uncaring and she could not wrap herself in the warmth of the memory of Kíli's love.

The sound of muscle and bone cracking and reforming as Beorn transformed to Man-shape interrupted her increasingly gloomy thoughts.

"You smell of grief."

"Grief has a smell?" she asked, still staring up at the sky.

"All emotions have their own scent. You smell of grief and longing, Little Mother." She heard him take in a deep breath. "And anger, now. Why does it anger you so when anyone mentions that you are pregnant? Are you unhappy to be with child?"

Stung, she spun around to face him. "No! I love my _pîn elloth_. I just...I..." She looked away, biting her lip, and then met his eyes. "I am beginning to feel smothered by the weight of everyone's concern. I am so tired of being treated like an invalid simply because I am pregnant."

"That is part of it, yes, but I think there is more to it."

Beorn looked at her with simple curiosity, no judgement in his gaze, and that gave her the courage to answer honestly, "I hate that they think me less capable simply because I am with child. I can still pull my own weight. I don't need them to protect me."

"Is it so terrible to need others?"

"Yes. It is." The words left her feeling hollowed out and empty. "That which is useful is valued. That which is not useful is...a burden."

"Is a child valued because it is useful, or because it is loved?"

That stopped the breath in her throat. She opened her mouth but found that she could not speak.

Beorn nodded slowly, his eyes full of old sorrow. "I see that whoever raised you failed to show you the right answer to that question."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Tauriel said, "No. You are wrong. The Queen loved me. She took me in and raised me even though I was just a Silvan Elf foundling." (She remembered the pain and regret in the Queen's eyes as she said in a voice rendered hoarse with emotion, "I failed you, Tauriel. I am sorry for that.") 

Tauriel shook her head, pushing the memory away. "She did not fail me."

Beorn waited for her to continue, seeming as patient and enduring as an ancient oak tree.

"The King was kind to me when I was a child, but I always understood that I was not part of the royal family." She paused, not wanting to reveal herself further, but the words spilled out like meltwater bursting through an ice dam. "And when I was grown I made myself useful. I served him, I fought for him. I did everything right...except that then I fell in love. And when I dared to defy him because of that love, he exiled me."

"King or no king, if he stood before me right now I would gut him with a single blow." Tauriel jumped and stared at Beorn, astonished by the anger with which he spoke. "That is no way to treat your child."

"The King is not my father," she assured Beorn, thinking that he had misunderstood the relationship. "His wife took care of me after my parents died, that is all."

The bear-man shook his head sharply. "That is no excuse. Family is family, whether linked by blood or not." He took a deep breath, his huge chest expanding like a bellows, and let it out slowly. "You may not believe these words yet, but listen to them and remember: you do not need to prove your usefulness in order to be loved. Those who love you will love you even if you are not always able to be strong."

She swallowed hard and looked away, blinking back the threatening tears from her eyes.

"Will you stab me with one of those very sharp knives if I dare to hug you, Little Mother?"

She laughed despite herself and shook her head.

They hugged under the stars then, the pregnant, exiled Elf and the skinchanger who might be the last of his kind, and deep inside Tauriel a wound she had never realized was there began to heal.

***

The next morning Beorn left them with many exhortations to be careful if they absolutely must travel to Erebor and to take care of the Little Bunny and Little Mother. Bilbo nearly hid his face in despair at that, but to his shock Tauriel seemed to be amused by the nickname rather than outraged. (Though perhaps after the conversation he had eavesdropped on last night, he should not have been so surprised.)

For his part, Bilbo escaped being picked up and cuddled but consented to being hugged within an inch of his life.

"Be careful, Little Bunny," Beorn told him, still towering over him even while kneeling. "There is evil in that mountain."

"Don't worry, I will be as careful as I can be."

Surprisingly quietly for such a large creature, he murmured, "You are very good at hiding but I have a keen nose. I trust that you will remember what was said and take care of her."

Bilbo was sure his cheeks must be flaming. He had thought that his snooping had gone entirely unnoticed but apparently not. "I will, Beorn. That I promise you."

The skinchanger met his eyes solemnly and then nodded. Rising to his feet, he unwrapped the blanket that had been serving him as an improvised kilt and tossed it to Nori. "Safe travels," he said to the group before bowing formally, entirely unashamed of his nudity.

Beorn strode away, his gait shifting as he changed form even while moving, dropping to all fours as he completed the change into a great brown-furred bear.

The morning seemed much quieter without the almost overwhelming presence of Beorn. Bilbo shook himself and squared his shoulders. Time to re-enter Mirkwood, whether he wanted to or not.

Elladan and Elrohir were in the lead as they neared the eaves of the forest. Without a word, they slowed their horses to a halt before entering the shade-dappled space under the branches. 

"What is it?" Dís demanded.

The brothers exchanged glances. "The forest feels...wrong," Elrohir said slowly.

Bilbo slid ungracefully off his pony. Taking a few steps toward the forest, he stopped and wriggled his feet in the grass as he sniffed the air. He smelled damp leaf mould, moss, ferns, and underlying it all a faint miasma of rot. "It's much improved, actually. Last summer I thought I'd lose my breakfast before I got within ten yards of the forest. Now it's just a vague feeling of queasiness."

"Bilbo! You didn't tell us the forest was making you sick." Bofur looked indignant.

"Well, we had to get through it. And we were so low on food by the time the Elves caught us, it was not at all a bad thing that I didn't feel like eating." They were far enough away from that time they had nearly starved to death in the forest that now he could look back on it and laugh. 

Well, no. Perhaps it still wasn't _that_ amusing, now that he thought about it.

Tauriel was watching him closely. "You can feel the changes in the forest? I did not realize that Hobbits had any such ability."

"It's not anything impressive like what you Elves can do. We just...feel the land." Bilbo shrugged and scuffed a foot against his ankle while vaguely regretting bringing up the subject at all. It really wasn't anything of note; mainly it just meant that Hobbits made exceptionally good farmers and gardeners.

She nodded to him, seeming to understand that Bilbo preferred not to discuss it further. "You are correct in what you said, _mellon_. The darkness that has so long polluted my--" Tauriel paused for a moment, a slight wince crossing her face before she continued, "--the forest has slowly begun to lift. Perhaps someday Mirkwood will become the Greenwood again."

Elladan looked pained. " _This_ is an improvement? If it was worse before, I can scarce believe you could stand it."

"I was born in Mirkwood, my lord. Until recently, this forest was all that I had ever known." 

Bilbo caught a look of resignation mixed with wistfulness crossing Elladan's face as Tauriel raised her face to the shadow of the towering trees as if she were basking in the light of the sun.

"Well then!" Bilbo clapped his hands together. "We've got a few miles to go so we had best get moving, hadn't we?"

"A few miles? More like a few hundred," Nori said, raising one of his braided eyebrows.

"All the more reason not to dawdle."

The Old Forest Road had once been used by Dwarven caravans carrying goods across Mirkwood from the Iron Hills to Moria. Leaf litter and dirt covered the huge blocks of stone here and there, but no weeds had managed to burst their way up between the stones. 

"Good solid Dwarven construction." Bofur stomped a boot on one of the stone blocks, nodding in satisfaction. "None of those shoddy roads you'll find in the lands of Men. Did you know in Gondor they only plan their roads to last fifty years? Fifty years," he repeated in tones of deep disgruntlement.

Bilbo, who came from a land where roads weren't paved so much as they were tracks worn into the dirt over generations, kept his mouth shut on the matter.

He couldn't repress a shudder as the canopy of the forest closed over their heads and they were plunged into the eternal twilight gloom of Mirkwood. Unable to forget the pony-sized horrors that had ambushed the Company, he made sure to keep an eye out for spiderwebs. 

Riding beside him, Tauriel gave him a reassuring smile. "The forest is much safer now, _mellon_. Lord Elrond assured me that whatever dark power had taken root in Dol Guldur has been banished."

"Yes, well. I can tell that to my conscious mind as much as I want, but that won't convince my hindbrain that I'm not in danger of becoming a giant spider's second breakfast."

"What was that about giant spiders?" Dís asked, which meant that of course Bofur had to give a dramatic retelling of the events. Bilbo laid a hand on Sting's pommel and reassured himself that if giant spiders attacked, this time he would be ready.

Mirkwood would never be Bilbo's favorite vacation spot, but this trip started out much more promisingly than his journey with the Company had. He should have known that would not last long. 

They had only been on the road for a few hours when Tauriel held her hand in the air and hissed, "Silence!"

Bilbo reined in his pony, his hand automatically reaching for Sting. Before he could draw it, a troop of easily half a dozen Elves garbed in the colors of the forest materialized out of the trees surrounding them with bows drawn.

He froze, then slowly lifted his empty hands in the air. Around him he could see the others doing the same with attitudes varying from cautious to furiously angry.

"Tauriel!" one of the Elves called, stepping forward. She spoke a few more sentences in what appeared to be Sindarin, but it was so heavily accented and spoken so quickly that Bilbo was quite unable to make out any part of it. Only the Elf's voice and relative lack of height (even shorter than Tauriel) marked the speaker as female, for like the rest of the troop she wore her hood pulled forward to shadow her face.

"Travel on the Dwarven road is allowed by treaties signed by King Thranduil," Tauriel replied in Westron. "I have been banished from the Woodland Realm, this is true, but the Old Forest Road is neutral territory."

The other Elf switched languages as well. She had an accent that sounded almost musical, slurring the words together in a way that Bilbo recognized from his late-night talks with Tauriel. "Who are these others who travel with you?"

"I travel with three Dwarves who are returning to Erebor, two Elves of Imladris, and a Hobbit of the Shire."

"Strange traveling companions." 

"Some might call them that. Our business is not with the Woodland Realm, however. I ask that you honor the treaties covering the use of this road and allow us to continue on our way."

"The rest of your party may continue on the Old Forest Road, but King Thranduil has decreed that you must be brought before him if you dare step foot beneath the boughs of Mirkwood."

Bilbo could see Nori tensing out of the corner of his eye and he had the sense that Elladan and Elrohir were practically vibrating with leashed violence.

The guard shouldered her bow and pushed back her hood, revealing delicate features and very dark hair and eyes. Her voice softened and warmed as she said, "Tauriel, every member of the Forest Guard has been instructed to bring you to King Thranduil. Some may not issue so polite an invitation."

" _Gi suilon_ , Rhemyrn. Thank you for your warning." Tauriel dismounted her horse and turned to face the rest of the party. "My friends, I must leave you here. You must continue on to Erebor without me. The Forest Guard will not prevent you from passing through Mirkwood on the Dwarven road. Correct?" she asked the guard, who nodded.

"Now wait just a minute--" Bilbo said at the same time as the rest of their party voiced their displeasure.

Tauriel held up a hand, silencing them. "My friends, this is the only way. I must speak to King Thranduil."

"Then we're going with you," Bilbo said staunchly to a chorus of approval.

"You do not have to--"

"Yes, we do."

The guard, Rhemyrn, shook her head stubbornly. "The King did not say anything about bringing your companions."

"Oh, but we insist," Elladan said in an ominously polite tone. "As official representatives of Imladris, we must accompany Lady Tauriel to ensure that her interests are protected."

She looked skeptical. "Official representatives of Imladris?"

"Lord Elrond of Imladris has offered me his protection," Tauriel explained. 

Rhemyrn's eyebrows rose and Bilbo caught her making a quick hand signal to Tauriel. It seemed to be a message of some kind, for Tauriel responded to it with a few hand gestures of her own. Tipping her head to the side in that distinctive Elvish nod, the guard said, "Very well, the representatives of Imladris may accompany you to the palace. However, the Dwarves must leave--"

"That is my daughter-in-law you're attempting to detain." Setting her jaw and looking absolutely immovable, Dís glared around them at the woodland Elves. "If you think we're allowing you to disappear with her, you are sadly mistaken."

Rhemyrn looked to Tauriel for confirmation. At her nod, the guard's eyes widened as she assessed Tauriel's obviously pregnant form. "Ah...Of course we would not separate you from your kin, Tauriel. They may accompany you to the palace." She appeared to be lumping Bilbo in with the Dwarves, which he supposed was not entirely incorrect, what with his purported marriage to Thorin.

"Very well. We surrender ourselves to your protection," Tauriel said. "On my honor, neither I nor my companions will offer you or your troop harm except in self-defence."

In response to another hand signal from their leader, the Elven guards relaxed out of their bows-drawn stances. Half of them faded back into the forest, becoming effectively invisible once they were more than fifteen feet away. The other three guards shouldered their bows and took up positions around them. Like an honor guard, Bilbo tried to convince himself. But it was no use--all he could think of was the day that Thranduil's guards had thrown the Company into the cells under the Elvenking's palace.

 _But we have Lord Elrond's sons with us this time,_ he thought. _Surely not even King Thranduil would dare to imprison another Elf lord's sons, would he?_

As the group began to move again, Bilbo found himself riding next to Tauriel as had become their habit during the journey so far. She smiled down at him, though he knew her well enough by now to see the worry in her eyes that she tried to hide. "It will be fine, _mellon_."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes and raised his chin. "Yes, it will be. If nothing else, I'll finally have the chance to give King Thranduil the scolding he so richly deserves."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> gi suilon - I greet you (familiar mode)  
> pîn elloth - little flower


	17. Hearts of Chalcedony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: alcoholic parent, toxic parental relationship, mild violence.

Dís's entire life had been defined by a series of disasters and losses. First the destruction of Erebor by the dragon Smaug, in which she had lost her mother and her homeland; then the attempt to try to retake Moria from the Orcs, in which she had lost her grandfather, father, and brother; then the battle before the gates of Erebor, in which she had lost everything else that mattered to her. (The loss of her husband Víli had been a quieter thing: a simple mining accident. It was so very Víli of him to have gone so quickly and simply, she thought; he always had been fond of gently mocking the Longbeard tendency toward grand drama.)

She would not allow herself to break when she received the news from Erebor, but oh Mahal, how she had wanted to. Her sons, her beautiful boys, were gone. Fíli, always so aware of his responsibilities as the heir, despite his natural tendency towards mischief. Kíli, her little optimist, playful and enthusiastic, so hopeful and full of life. And Thorin, her oldest brother, her strength and guiding star. She felt as if her chest had been cracked open and her heart ripped to pieces, but she would not break. She could not. Too many people depended on her for guidance. 

And so Dís, daughter of Thrain and Lis, the last surviving member of her family, buried her pain deep inside where it could fossilize around the remnants of her broken heart.

The Raven brought more than news of her sons' and brother's deaths. Strange news, that Kíli had been infatuated with an Elf who had been a member of King Thranduil's guard, and that Thorin's trust had been betrayed by the Hobbit who had become a member of his Company...and possibly more. The phrase Balin's message had used in reference to the Hobbit had been "shield-brother," which could mean a relationship of a sexual or non-sexual nature. Either way it meant a level of trust and love that Dís had not honestly believed her closed-off, suspicious brother could achieve with anyone, much less a Hobbit. She had always found halflings to be inoffensive but generally useless creatures without the drive or ambition to seek anything beyond their own garden gates.

The winter after what they were now calling the Battle of the Five Armies had been hard and brutally cold. Her little house in Ered Luin was full of doors that she could not bear to open, of bedrooms that would never again be filled with warmth and love. There was a full week in the depth of winter where she could not find it within herself to stir from the chair before her fireplace. But spring came eventually, merciless in its proof that life would continue to go on even when she felt that she had lost her reason to live.

And with the spring thaw came news so extraordinary that Dís had moments where she feared that she had only imagined the appearance of Bofur and Nori at her doorstep. 

Kíli was alive.

Alive.

Her heart leapt at the thought that if Kíli was alive, then perhaps Fíli and Thorin were alive too. It was almost too much to hope, but Dís would do more than simply cross half of Middle Earth to find them if there were any hope whatsoever of their survival. She would sail the Sundering Seas, she would challenge the Valar themselves, if there were any possibility that her sons and brother still lived. Compared to that, asking Lord Elrond for his aid in deciphering the list of alchemical ingredients was a minor thing.

Despite Nori and Bofur's conjectures, she had not truly believed that Kíli had fathered a child with his Elven love until the moment Dís set eyes on the girl. For girl she was, no matter that her age was probably counted in centuries if not in tens of centuries.

Even as Dís had challenged the girl to show the proof of her marriage, she had known it in her bones. Kíli, her boy who had only been barely old enough to go on Thorin's quest, had done the unthinkable--he had married an Elf. But despite the fact that Bofur and Nori's statements plus the girl's rounded belly would have been proof enough of their marriage, Dís could not let herself accept the truth until she saw her son's marriage bead threaded into the flowing hair of an Elf.

After that she did not have the strength to question that the Hobbit was Thorin's husband, even though there was no bead in his hair and the Hobbit briefly denied being married to Thorin at all. But considering the unpleasant truths that Balin's message had delicately hinted at, it was no wonder that her brother had not been in any state of mind to carve a marriage bead for his new husband.

Dís had not survived one and a half centuries of tragedy by railing against the fates or refusing to face facts. So despite her personal feelings on the matter, she named them daughter-in-law and brother-in-law and accepted that the Hobbit and the Elf girl would be traveling with them. (The Elf lords she accepted more grudgingly, but she was not foolish enough to ignore the fact that having Lord Elrond's sons traveling with them might prove useful if King Thranduil attempted to bar them from crossing Mirkwood.)

Of the three siblings, Thorin had always been the one who inspired people and Frerin, lost so long ago that she could no longer clearly picture his face in her mind, had been the one who charmed them. Dís, however--Dís was the one who understood them. So she set herself to watch the strange new members of her family. 

The relationship between the Hobbit and the Elf girl confused her at first until she realized that Bilbo loved Tauriel not as a sister and not quite as a daughter, but as if she were his niece in blood as well as law. Had he cared for Dís's sons with that same blend of overprotective fretting and indulgent affection? A quiet conversation with Nori satisfied Dís's curiosity on the matter. The knowledge that the Hobbit had loved her boys made her begin to warm up to Bilbo despite her lingering suspicions.

Her conversation with Bilbo had gone well overall, despite the disturbing revelations about Thorin's actions while in the grips of gold sickness. That he had offered violence to his spouse was almost unthinkable, but the fear lingering in the Hobbit's eyes had assured her that it was the truth he spoke, no matter how hard it was to believe of her brother.

The rest of the time Dís spent watching Tauriel. Kíli's wife, the mother of his child--it was hard to believe it, when half the time Dís still thought of her youngest son as a child himself. And yet as she was discovering, children grew up when you were least expecting it. 

The Misty Mountains dwindled in the distance, Mirkwood neared, and still she had not spoken to the Elf girl. It was not that Dís disapproved...well no, that was a lie; in truth, she disapproved a great deal. But as the saying went, the geode had been cracked and there was no putting it back together again.

Dís was nothing if not ruthlessly pragmatic. She had already resigned herself to a strange, tall, pointy-eared daughter-in-law (though Mahal below, what would the children look like?) and she would make the best of it. No, what was holding her back from speaking to the girl was that quite honestly she didn't even know where to begin. She had almost worked herself up to initiating a conversation when the Elvenking's guards arrested them virtually the moment they set foot within Mirkwood. 

King Thranduil was sadly mistaken if he thought that Dís would let him abduct her daughter-in-law and grandbaby without a fight. 

She would deal with the Elvenking first, and then perhaps by the time they got to Erebor Dís might actually have figured out how to speak to Tauriel.

***

The last time Bilbo had entered the halls of the Elvenking, he had spent weeks trapped within the strangely shifting and shadowy world of the ring for fear of discovery by the Elven guards. Much of the time spent hiding in empty corners and pilfering food from unattended plates had faded into a haze of exhaustion and fear in his memory. So it felt as if he was seeing King Thranduil's palace for the first time as they crossed the bridge to the great doors. In fact, the first time he'd crossed the dizzying span he'd been in such a panic to get through the doors before they closed that he'd barely noticed a thing about them.

A vaguely familiar-looking guard with red-brown hair met them at the gates. He spoke briefly with Rhemyrn, their Sindarin too quickly spoken and heavily accented for Bilbo to make heads or tails of it, then hurried away. However neither Tauriel nor Lord Elrond's sons looked particularly worried, so Bilbo tried not to panic as they waited for the guard to return.

The guard came back after what felt like an eon but had probably been less than half an hour and told them to follow him.

Bilbo wasn't sure what he had been expecting--to be marched straight to the cells where the Company had been imprisoned?--but he was surprised that the guard led them up bridges and walkways to a part of the palace he hadn't seen during the Company's stay in Mirkwood. 

He guessed that this must be an area meant for the nobility, for even as beautiful as the rest of the palace was this area put the rest of it to shame. Fountains tinkled musically in every corner, accompanied by statues of carved stone so delicate that they looked almost alive. Beautifully detailed tapestries covered the walls. Their footsteps were cushioned by thickly woven rugs so intricately patterned that he felt almost guilty for walking upon them with his travel-dusty feet.

The last time he had been in Thranduil's palace...it was painful now to remember the uncomplicated hope and excitement he had felt when he'd found the hidden exit in the wine cellar. It had all seemed so simple back then; he would steal the keys, sneak a dozen Dwarves out of the palace in barrels, and then they'd pop right on over to Erebor and nick the Arkenstone out from under Smaug's nose. Bilbo had actually thought to himself, "Well, the worst is over now!"

Barely a week later, he had knelt in the mud and gore of a battlefield holding Thorin's hand and begging him not to die. Struggling for breath, too weak to grip Bilbo's hand, still that confounded stubborn Dwarf had insisted on telling Bilbo that he forgave him for stealing the Arkenstone and that he would take back his words and actions that day on the wall if he could. 

By the end of it, Thorin's voice had been so weak and thready that Bilbo had to hold his ear to the Dwarf's mouth to make out what he was saying. The last thing Thorin said to him was a Dwarvish word that Bilbo had never heard before. Intending to ask him what it meant, Bilbo had repeated the word back to him. Then Thorin had heaved a sigh that seemed to go on forever and, well.

He didn't breathe in again after that.

Bilbo took a deep breath, attempting to push the memories away. It wouldn't do to break down in front of King Thranduil, after all. _Stiff upper lip, Bilbo my lad!_ he told himself. They knew for a fact that Kíli was alive, and he'd looked just as dead as Thorin had when the Iron Hills healers had carried him into the mountain. If Kíli was alive, then Fíli and Thorin must be also. He wouldn't allow himself to believe anything else.

Looking up at Tauriel and catching her eye, Bilbo attempted to smile supportively at her. She looked pale and resolved, her jaw set firmly. He couldn't imagine how difficult this must be for her to return to this palace that had once been her home. He only wished that he could reassure her in some way that wouldn't be immediately overheard by dozens of Elven ears. Glancing down at him, she dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, as if Bilbo were the one who needed encouragement. However, he was fairly sure that the comfort had gone both ways.

After winding their way through the upper regions of the palace for several minutes, the guard led them to a short corridor with four doors opening off it and told them to rest and refresh themselves before dinner.

"And when will that be?" Bilbo asked, giving the guard his best pleasant-but-dim Hobbit smile. "Only it's been rather a long day of travel, you see."

"At sunset. A steward will come to escort you to the dining hall. Not you, Tauriel," the guard said as they began figuring out how to divide their party into four rooms. "King Thranduil wishes to meet with you before dinner."

"What? No!" Bilbo said, crossing his arms across his chest. There was a chorus of protests from the group.

Tauriel made a calming gesture. "My friends, if the King wishes me to meet with him then I must obey."

"You are certain, Lady Tauriel?" Elladan asked with a certain amount of emphasis on her title.

"I am sure it will be fine, Lord Elladan. I shall see all of you at dinner."

Behind Tauriel's back, Nori gave Bilbo a significant look, by which he assumed he was being asked to follow her surreptitiously. Bilbo twitched his nose at him and the thief looked pleased. Though he had never caught Bilbo wearing his ring, Bilbo knew that Nori was of the opinion that there was some form of Hobbit magic involved in his mysterious ability to sneak about unseen. Bilbo blamed Gandalf and his ridiculous exaggeration of the stealthiness of their "Hobbit burglar" for that.

Of course he had already planned to put on his ring and follow them. However it wouldn't do to give in too easily, and so Bilbo made sure to be as much of a fusspot as he could be before the guards took Tauriel away.

***

Bilbo was finally reassured that the guards were not planning on immediately marching Tauriel off to the prison cells and they left him behind, still visibly fretting. Tauriel was not entirely surprised when Rhemyrn dismissed the remaining few guards, saying that she would escort Tauriel the rest of the way alone. 

Though Rhemyrn might appear straight-faced to anyone who didn't know her, Tauriel had known her since Rhemyrn was a scout trainee and she could read the amusement in the twitch of her eyebrow. "The Hobbit is quite protective of you."

"Bilbo is..." Tauriel sighed, trying to think how to explain it. "He is my uncle by marriage and he takes that responsibility very much to heart."

After glancing around carefully to ensure that they were not being watched, Rhemyrn signed, _Truly, you are married to a Dwarf?_

The Forest Guard had adapted and expanded the language of hand-signals that Silvan Elves used to communicate on the hunt. After several hundred years of fighting giant spiders and other spawn of evil in their forest, the hand-signals had evolved into a true sign language with which members of the Forest Guard could communicate just as adeptly as they did through spoken language.

Tauriel regarded the younger guard warily but there appeared to be no judgment in her eyes. _Yes. We are married in body and soul._

Rhemyrn made the signs of the Hunter and his Lady with a quick, graceful curve of her hands. _Blessings of the Lord of the Hunt and the Lady of Flowers on your child. May the light of the stars watch over you and may the sun and moon guide your path._

Tauriel was startled into speech. "I...I do not know what to say."

Rhemyrn smiled, shaking her head at Tauriel. _Do not look so shocked. My father was Avari._

She had not been aware of Rhemyrn's mixed heritage, but it was not entirely unusual for Silvan clans to intermarry with the Avari, particularly the clans who had resisted absorbing Sindar culture. _I thank you most heartily for your blessings. However, I do not understand why that is pertinent._

 _The Avari and the Dwarves do not have the history of antagonism that other Elves do. In fact they tend to have close alliances with them._ "Ah, here is your room," Rhemyrn added aloud. "You had better freshen up quickly. The message from the King said that he wished to meet with you as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Rhemyrn." In Forest Guard signs, she added, _Thank you for not thinking it strange that my child's father is a Dwarf._

Rhemyrn nodded gracefully to her. _I know there are many who will think it strange or worse. But you have an ally in me and in many of the Guards._ Her eyes narrowed with amusement. "Especially the Silvan ones, of course."

The suite that Rhemyrn led her to was one of those reserved for visiting dignitaries if she was not mistaken. Tauriel wondered what on Arda would have caused Thranduil to give his disgraced former Guard Captain such an opulent set of rooms. Perhaps Rhemyrn had interpreted her orders creatively regarding where Tauriel was to be placed. She hoped that it would not get the young guard in trouble.

Unsure of how much time she had to prepare before Thranduil would call for her, Tauriel made quick work of washing the travel dust off with the bowl and ewer of warm water that had been left for her in the private washing chamber. The sunken hot pool in the main room of the suite was for social bathing, a custom that Bilbo had apparently found shocking when she happened to mention it in front of him.

She had been lost in thought admiring the potted orchids that flourished around the pool when the near-silent shift of an Elven foot on stone startled her out of her thoughts. Tauriel spun around and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty," she said, waiting for the King's permission for her to rise.

Not even looking at her, Thranduil waved a hand languidly. In his other hand he held a wine goblet. "Rise. You are no longer my subject, Tauriel. Indeed, if I remember aright you did not give me such respect even when you were my Guard Captain."

Tauriel's ear-tips flushed red with embarrassment. "My lord--"

But Thranduil had already moved on, drifting to the side of the pool where he trailed a fingertip over the delicate orchid blooms. "These were my wife's favorites, you know. I bought them from a trader who swore they came from Ithilien. She adored them. But not enough to make her stay, it seems."

Tauriel knew this fey, brooding mood of the King's, just as she knew what brought it on and what made it worse. He never spoke of the Queen when he was sober. "You are intoxicated."

"Hmmm. Perhaps." He tilted his head to the side and added, "Not nearly enough."

Now that she looked at him more closely, she could tell that Thranduil was not well. His hair was unkempt and there was a hollowness to his cheeks that she did not like. "Have you been subsisting on nothing but wine and cheese again?"

Thranduil made a dismissive gesture. "Such concern from a traitor."

That stung, even though she knew it was not the truth. "I am no traitor."

"Really? Did you or did you not desert my kingdom to chase after your Dwarf lover?" He crossed the room to pour more wine into his goblet from a bottle sitting on a side table.

Tauriel took a deep breath. He would stab at her vulnerable spots with pointed words. That was what Thranduil did when he was feeling defensive. "I left in order to save the life of the man I love. Is your heart so frozen that you have forgotten what it is to love?"

"You mistook infatuation for love."

"My love for Kíli is real, no matter what you think. We have a _faelif_. Is that not proof enough of the truth of our bond?"

He scoffed. "The lesser races cannot form a _faelif_."

"His _fae_ came to me when I was in the Ettenmoors, across a distance of over three hundred miles. Please do tell me how that would have been possible without a fully formed link between our souls."

"The Dwarf is dead and you are a delusional child."

"Kíli is not dead. We have proof that he is being held prisoner by King Dáin. One of my companions found Kíli and spoke to him. He is still alive."

Thranduil's hand jerked as he picked up his goblet. He completed the action with studied carelessness, but there were tiny lines of tension showing next to his eyes. "That is a serious accusation to levy against King Dáin."

"It is the truth. We mean to travel to Erebor and rescue Kíli."

"Hmmm. I cannot imagine the Dwarf will be happy to see that you bear the proof of your fickle heart. Tell me, does Legolas know yet?"

She shook her head, feeling as if time had suddenly sped up around her and she was left swimming in mud trying to catch up. "I--My fickle _what_? What does Legolas have to do with this?" She sucked in a breath, finally understanding. "You think the baby is his."

"What other option is there? Unless you have been even more faithless than I thought possible. I suppose Bard the Dragon-Slayer might have drawn your eye--"

" _Enough_! Do not insult my marriage!" The room rang with silence after her outburst. She thought for a moment that she heard a rustle of movement to her right, but when she looked there was nothing but an empty corner.

Tauriel swallowed hard, feeling horrified at the fact that she had just shouted at the King. Then she stiffened her spine and reminded herself that Thranduil was her king no longer. "The child is Kíli's. Why would you even think that?"

"The last time that I saw you on Ravenhill, I noticed that you were..." Thranduil gestured at her stomach with his goblet and then took a long sip of wine.

"You _noticed_? I did not even realize I was pregnant for another six weeks after that! How did you...?"

Thranduil looked mildly insulted. "I may not be your precious Lord Elrond, but I know a pregnant _elleth_ when I see her."

"So you thought that I had, what, betrayed Kíli with Legolas? Or the other way around? And then I disappeared after the battle." On a sudden hunch, she asked, "You had me tracked, did you not?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Your trail went cold in Mount Gundabad."

"So you assumed that your exile of me had doomed your son's unborn child." No wonder he had spent the last eight months drinking. Of course the only reason he had cared about her fate was that he believed she carried his unborn grandchild. "Where is Legolas?" He could be patrolling, of course, but normally he would stay close to the Palace to keep an eye on his father when Thranduil got into one of these moods.

"He left," Thranduil said in a cold, uninflected voice. 

"He left? What do you mean?"

He slammed the goblet down on the table. Red wine splashed out, collecting in little droplets on the carved wood. "I mean that he left," Thranduil said, turning to face her with a vicious smile. "He left me. Just like his mother left me. Just like you left--"

"You _exiled_ me!"

"You betrayed me." Thranduil turned away as if the conversation was over, pouring more wine into his goblet without looking at her.

"All I did was fall in love." Tears blurred her vision and her breath came short as she added, "I did everything you ever asked me to. I served you, I fought in defense of your kingdom, I did everything right, and then the one time I dared to want something for myself you _banished_ me!"

Thranduil whirled and flung the goblet at her feet, broken glass and red liquid spraying everywhere. "I took you in when you were orphaned! I gave you everything--"

"You gave me nothing! You raised me like your daughter and then you told me I was _nothing_ to you!" She could feel herself beginning to cry and it made her even angrier to know that he could still affect her so.

His lip curled. "You are nothing. Nothing but a traitor and a fool."

She took a deep breath, dashing the tears from her cheeks. "Then if I am nothing, let me and my companions go and I shall not trouble you again."

"Oh, they may go." Thranduil gestured carelessly. "I care not what the Dwarves and the Peredhil do."

"You will let us leave?" She almost dared to believe that he would be kind.

"Your companions may leave, yes. But you will stay here."

Tauriel's breath caught in her throat.

"As a prisoner."

***

The prisoner awoke.

Something had startled him from his uneasy sleep full of dreams that vanished like phantoms upon waking. There were noises outside in the corridor of footsteps and several voices. It sounded like something had upset the guards.

He strained his ears, trying to make out what they were saying, but their words were too muffled by the heavy wooden door to make out. He would have better luck if he pressed his ear to the door, he thought.

The prisoner took a deep breath and steeled himself for the immense effort of standing upright. He was sure that once this would have been easy for him. The scars on his body indicated he had been through many battles. Once, he must have been a warrior. 

Now he sat up and scooted close to the edge of his pallet, letting his legs swing into the air before carefully beginning to lever himself out of bed. His knees shook as he landed and he nearly fell, holding onto the edge of the pallet until he regained his balance.

It would be faster to walk straight across the room, of course, but he did not trust his balance without a hand to anchor him on the wall. Slowly, laboriously, he shuffled around the perimeter of the room, pausing at the halfway mark to catch his breath. 

It took him so long to reach the door that he was afraid the guards would have finished their conversation by the time he got there. But he was in luck--they were still talking. He supposed that there were only so many ways to occupy oneself while standing for several hours outside of a closed door.

"--strange that both of them disappeared in the same night. They're saying it was one of the mercenaries who turned coat and helped them escape. That southern mercenary, remember her?"

The other guard hawked and spat. "That's what you get, hiring sell-swords. No loyalty. Still, I don't see how they could possibly have gotten out past the gate guards. They must be holed up somewhere in the mountain."

"Maybe. I hear there's rumors they might have taken refuge with the wood Elves."

"Don't let the healer hear you saying that. He's practically frothing at the mouth as it is. Heard he executed the guard who let the sell-sword take the younger one right out of his cell."

A snort. "Idiot like that deserved what he got, letting someone just walk away with his prisoner."

The other guard made a noise of agreement and the conversation lapsed.

The prisoner felt like shouting with frustration. This was almost worse than having no news at all. It sounded like there had been two prisoners who had both been aided in their escape by a mercenary. But who were they? Did he know them? Would they have rescued him as well if they had had the chance?

Or was the truth as he feared in his darkest moments? Were the flashes he remembered sometimes ( _hazel eyes widening with terror beneath wind-tossed curly hair, his fists knotted in the lapels of the smaller man's coat as he shakes him and threatens to throw him off the top of a wall_ ) proof that he was nothing but a common murderer?

And beyond that lay the most important question of all.

Who was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> elleth - Elf woman  
> fae - spirit (Sindarin term for fëa)  
> faelif - soul-link  
> Peredhil - plural of Peredhel, Half-Elven
> 
> ***
> 
> Additional notes:
> 
> There is no basis in canon for the idea of Silvan Elves having a sign language, but considering that they spend their time hunting giant spiders, it seems to me that having a way to communicate silently would be a really good idea. Also, I'm taking the "jacuzzi" in Thranduil's rooms in the movie as an excuse to run with the idea that social bathing is a common custom among the Elves of Mirkwood.


	18. Athwart the Hawse

"As your _prisoner_?"

"You entered Mirkwood in defiance of your exile."

"I was on the Old Dwarf Road. There are treaties that name it neutral territory for travel. I was not trespassing." 

Anger at Thranduil for being so unreasonable, incredulity at his blithe dismissal of the treaties that governed the road, and dismay at the thought of defying him again churned in Tauriel's gut. She felt the restless fluttering of the baby shifting, perhaps disturbed by her distress, and rested her hand on her belly to try to reassure her _pîn elloth_.

Thranduil's eyes followed the movement and a shadow of emotion--sorrow, or perhaps grief--passed across his face. "Surely you can see that this is for your own safety. If King Dáin truly has imprisoned his own kinsmen in order to seize the throne of Erebor, then you cannot travel there in your condition."

"I am pregnant, not an invalid." She was going to throw something at the next person who implied that she was no longer able to take care of herself because of her pregnancy. Possibly a knife.

"Yes, very obviously so. And if you are telling the truth, the child you bear is the rightful heir to Erebor. Can you not see that entering the mountain would be--"

" _If_ I am telling the truth? How is it that you can still believe that I am lying?" She paced back and forth across the room, heartsick that he could believe her to be so dishonorable. Where was the wise, subtle King that she had known all her life? Even in his most autocratic moments, Thranduil always had some stratagem in mind...Of course, a stratagem. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose to try to calm herself before gritting out, "This is all a ploy to lure Legolas back to your side."

Thranduil sighed, carefully lifting his trailing robes out of the way as he stepped past the spreading pool of wine and glass shards on the floor. "Is it so very difficult to imagine that I might worry for your safety?"

"Considering that you exiled me without a moment's concern for whether I wandered to my death, yes, it is difficult."

"I did not intend for you to die." Thranduil's face was as impassive as always, but she thought she heard a slight note of apology in his voice. But not enough.

"That is not actually an apology."

"I will not apologize for exiling a traitor."

Tauriel closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, attempting to calm herself. "We are speaking in circles. You may believe me to be a traitor but you know that I am no liar. Why is it so difficult for you to believe that I have not been unfaithful to Kíli?"

"Elves and Dwarves cannot have children together. It is a simple fact of nature. Therefore, the child you bear must have an Elf or a Man for a father." 

"But it is possible. Lord Elrond found an account that states that one of the Elves of Eregion and a Dwarf of Moria bore a child together. It has happened before."

The king paused, his eyebrows drawing together for a moment before he smoothed his expression out. "Eregion? The city was sacked over four and a half thousand years ago. Whatever moth-eaten scrap Elrond unearthed from the archives is unlikely to be an accurate recording of its history."

"The account stated that the Dwarf Narvi bore Celebrimbor's child. When the forces of Sauron attacked the city, Narvi fled to the East and nothing more is known of her fate or that of her child."

"Celebrimbor Curufinion?" She could not quite interpret his tone of voice. Thranduil paused for a long moment and then shook his head as if banishing a troublesome thought. "One story of doubtful provenance from over four thousand years ago does not constitute proof of anything at all."

"Then if I am a liar, a traitor, and a trespasser, will you at least allow me to speak to my companions before you throw me in prison?" She held out her hands with her wrists pressed together as if bound, raising her eyebrows at him in challenge. 

He frowned at her as if she had just said something ridiculous. "You are my former Guard Captain. I will not insult you by imprisoning you in the cells like a common criminal."

"Why not? It was good enough for the King of Erebor, was it not? And I am nothing but a lowly Silvan Elf after all." It felt oddly freeing to taunt King Thranduil after so many years of desperately wanting his approval. 

"Consider yourself an honored guest."

"Honored guests can leave when they wish."

"Enough. I tire of this conversation. I shall see you at dinner." With that statement, Thranduil swept away. 

Tauriel heaved out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. Though it was freeing to finally speak her mind to the King, the experience had left her feeling tired and wrung out.

"Tauriel."

She gasped at the unexpected voice and then relaxed just as suddenly upon seeing who had spoken. "Bilbo. I should have known you would find some way to be present." Mindful of his bare feet, she moved further away from the puddle of wine and broken glass.

Rushing over to her from the shadowy corner where he had apparently been hiding, Bilbo grabbed her hand, wringing it between his much smaller hands as he stared up at her anxiously. "Are you alright?" 

She wondered at his seemingly magical ability to hide in plain sight, even from the keen eyes of Elves. "I am fine, _mellon_ ," she responded automatically. 

"Honestly, I have more than half a mind to give the Elvenking a proper scolding! Disgraceful, that's what it is."

"I must admit that I am surprised you did not leap out of hiding to shout at him." She somehow found it within herself to smile at Bilbo teasingly.

He glowered in the general direction that Thranduil had gone. "Don't think I wasn't sorely tempted. But as I found the last time friends of mine were imprisoned in the Elvenking's halls, it can be advantageous to have a bit of secrecy."

"Bilbo...how did you remain hidden? There is nothing to hide behind in that corner."

"Ah." He twitched his nose and looked away, then raised his chin as he answered, "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, you know."

That did not truly answer her question and she was about to press further when a light knock came at the door. Rhemyrn did not wait for a response before opening the door and stepping into the guest room. "Tauriel?"

Tauriel froze, staring at Bilbo in horror. There was nowhere for him to hide before Rhemyrn saw him.

The young guard looked surprised to see him, but simply shook her head before crossing the room to Tauriel's side and murmuring, "The King has given word to all the Guard you are to be treated as an honored guest, but you are not allowed to leave the palace."

"So quickly." Tauriel felt a surge of resentment. Had he even felt a moment's hesitation before declaring her a prisoner?

Bilbo glowered at Rhemyrn. "Are you to be Tauriel's jailer?"

To her surprise, Rhemyrn crossed her arms over her chest and answered in a loud, carrying voice, "I have been assigned as your personal guard, Tauriel." Lowering her voice again, she said, "This is wrong. I will help you escape."

Tauriel frowned at her and answered just as quietly, "You risk exile or worse if you help me."

"I care not. I will not serve an unjust King. To be honest, I have been considering leaving the Woodland Realm since last fall." Her eyes cut over to Bilbo and she tipped her head toward him. "The King's actions were not universally approved of, particularly amongst the Guard. We lost comrades, friends, and--" her words stumbled slightly, "--and family in the Battle of Five Armies. While it was indeed fortunate in the end that we were there, the original reason for our presence in Dale does our King no credit."

"You lost--?" But Tauriel had already guessed, remembering two dark heads bent together over an intricately carved bow and a mischievous smile shared between siblings. " _Nae! E uipada mintaur_ , Rhemyrn."

The young guard looked down and pressed a hand to her heart. " _Le fael_."

Bilbo cleared his throat after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "I don't suppose the wine cellar trapdoor is still an option?"

Rhemyrn took a deep breath and blinked, the brief look of vulnerability disappearing from her face. "No, the King had it sealed the day the Dwarves escaped."

"Bother. I suppose it was a bit too much to hope."

She nodded grimly. "I know half a dozen guards who would look the other way as you escaped, Tauriel. But that is not enough to ensure that you could leave the palace without anyone noticing."

Bilbo tapped his finger against his chin. "What we need is a distraction. Something to draw most people's attention away while we escaped. Oh, what I wouldn't give for some of Gandalf's old whizzpoppers!"

Tauriel blinked at him. "His what?"

"Explosions of light that create fleeting shapes in the sky, my dear--we will see them together someday, I promise you. But all talk of whizzpoppers aside, surely King Thranduil cannot hope to hold you captive? You are under Lord Elrond's protection, after all."

The same thought had occurred to her, but the thought of being the cause of conflict between King Thranduil and Lord Elrond--it did not even bear considering. "I would not be the source of open conflict between Mirkwood and Rivendell. No, we must find a way to resolve this without bringing Lord Elrond into it. You mentioned needing a distraction, Bilbo?" 

Despite the direness of the situation, Tauriel could feel her lips curling upward in a smile as she said, "I believe that I may have an idea about that."

***

Kíli's periods of lucidity were fleeting. Sometimes he recognized Ori or Sigrid and seemed to understand when Fíli explained that they were in Dale; more often, he recognized no one but Fíli and seemed to believe they were in one of the towns of Men they had sometimes stopped in while traveling. Worried about the possibility that his brother would wake and not recognize who was sitting at his side, Fíli sat long hours at Kíli's bedside, getting him to take broth whenever he awoke.

Kíli blinked open his eyes, smiling in an unfocused way at Fíli. "Fee."

"Kee. Drink this, alright? It'll make you feel better." 

Fíli watched his brother closely as he sipped at the lukewarm broth. It wasn't clear yet if Kíli was having a good or bad spell. He glanced around the room as he drank, but Fíli couldn't tell whether Kíli was actually taking in their surroundings.

Kíli took only a few sips before pushing the bowl away. "Where's Taur'?"

This was a recurring refrain. Fíli suppressed a sigh as he answered for what felt like the hundredth time, "Tauriel isn't here."

Kíli's eyes fluttered shut and then opened again after a few moments. "Can't feel her. Fee, she's gone."

That was new. Fíli frowned at him, trying to figure out where this had come from. "What do you mean, feel her?"

"Warm, safe, love. Can always feel her. Not any more. She's gone." Kíli's arms shook as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. 

Fíli put a hand on his chest to hold him down, horrified by how little pressure it took to subdue him. Kíli sank back into the pillows, his eyes fluttering closed again as he seemed to fall into a restless sleep.

Fíli pressed his palms to his eyes, breathing in and out slowly. Allowing himself to panic wouldn't help anything. His little brother needed him to stay calm and figure out what to do.

There was a soft knock at the door. Sigrid poked her head past the door, smiling softly when she saw him. "Everything alright?"

Fíli sighed, feeling the pressure in his chest subside as he smiled back at her. "It's one of those evenings."

She stepped fully into the room. "I'm sorry. I can watch over him for a while." 

He hesitated. Sigrid had helped so much already; he felt guilty for asking more of her.

"When was the last time you took a break? You can't help your brother if you collapse in exhaustion." Frowning at him, Sigrid crossed her arms across her chest. He felt even more guilty for noticing that the posture did very nice things to her bosom.

"Alright, I will take a short break." He raked his hands through his hair, blinking tired grit out of his eyes. "Come fetch me if he says anything, or seems like he's waking up, or if his fever goes up--"

"Fíli." Putting a hand on his shoulder, Sigrid smiled at him with kind blue eyes. "I will come get you the moment anything changes. Alright?"

"Alright."

He left reluctantly, standing with his hand on the door even after he'd closed it, trying to convince himself that he didn't really need to go back in.

"How is your brother doing?"

Fíli jumped a little at the voice, chiding himself for not realizing that Tofa sat at the kitchen table. "No worse, but no better either."

"I'm sorry. What does Prince Legolas say about it? I tried asking him earlier but he just growled at me and said that he needed to go get some more herbs."

"He doesn't know why Kíli isn't getting better. That's what he says, anyway."

"You don't trust him to tell the truth?" 

Fíli sighed, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs and rubbing the back of his neck. "It's hard to trust an Elf about something this important." 

"Ah. Do you have some reason to suspect him?" 

"No, it's just... he's an Elf."

Tofa looked puzzled. "I don't understand." 

"Don't they have Elves where you come from?" 

"Not really. I heard there might be a few hidden somewhere in the high desert. Harad is not a friendly place for Elves. Too close to Mordor." She made a warding sign after saying that name, close to the Hammer of Mahal sign that Fíli was familiar with but with an outer-facing gesture at the end.

"I guess there are worse neighbors to have than Elves." 

She snorted at him and Fíli found himself grinning back at her. Some of the worry and stress that had weighed his shoulders down seemed to lighten briefly. 

"All joking aside, do you think we can trust him? I'm trying to work out a plan for how we are going to get back into Erebor and find your uncle, and everything I'm coming up with says we need Prince Legolas."

"We don't need the Elf."

Looking unimpressed, Tofa counted out on her fingers, "We need three things to make this work: numbers, experienced fighters, and stealth. We don't have numbers, so we're going to have to make up for it with experience and stealth. You and I are both experienced fighters but I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a trained scout, and neither are you or Ori. The lad isn't even an experienced fighter. At this point, I'm not quite seeing how we can break back into Erebor _without_ Prince Legolas."

She was right. He knew she was right. It didn't make admitting it taste any better. "I know. You're right. And I will talk to him." Tofa raised an eyebrow at him and Fíli winced. "I'll even try to be nice to him." 

"Fair enough."

They sat in companionable silence for a while as Tofa ran a whetstone over the swords they'd picked up off the guards during their escape. Fíli was actually on the verge of dozing off when the door to the courtyard opened and a tall, hooded figure stepped inside.

The Elf pushed back his hood, nodding at both of them civilly as they exchanged greetings.

"Did you find what you needed, Prince Legolas?" Tofa asked.

Legolas hung his cloak by the door and turned, revealing that he carried a large bunch of greenery. "Athelas is not difficult to find in Dale, considering that the Men use it to feed their livestock." 

The Elf seemed to think the conversation was over, crossing to the sick-room door and entering it without knocking. After a few seconds Sigrid exited the room, looking mildly grumpy as she bade them goodnight.

Tofa made a meaningful face at him. Fíli groaned and went to go talk to the Elf.

Inside the sick-room, Legolas was stripping leaves off of the bunch of greenery. It looked vaguely familiar from that evening in Lake-Town when Tauriel had healed the wound in Kíli's leg.

"Your brother's condition has not improved," the Elf said abruptly, not looking up.

"He's not getting any worse, though. It's just taking a while for him to recover...isn't it?"

"You do not understand." Legolas put down the leaves and turned to face him directly. "If your brother's condition does not improve, his body will begin to wither and die. Mortal bodies and souls cannot remain unlinked for so long without permanent damage."

 _No._ The world seemed to shudder around him at the thought of his little brother wasting away. "What can we do? Is there anything that will help him? Anything at all? Tell me."

"Your servant gave me the list of alchemical ingredients he found in the ledgers for the healers' halls. I was able to make contact with a healer in the Forest Guard to ask her opinion on the matter. She believed the ingredients would make a potion which could separate a mortal's soul from their body, just as I had suspected from my examination of your brother. We had hoped that if he stopped taking the potions his condition would improve on its own. That is clearly not happening."

"And? Surely you have an idea. Or are you going to step back and watch him die? We are only mortal after all."

"Do not presume to know what I will or will not do. Your brother's life affects more than just himself. Or have you forgotten about Tauriel's link to him already?"

"You said that before, that there was a link between their souls because they're married. I trust that you know what you're talking about, but you must understand that to a Dwarf this sounds strange, to say the least. A link between souls? How would that even work?"

The Elf glowered at him silently then turned away, pulling a large glass bowl out of a cabinet and setting it on the table before placing the majority of the bunch of greens into the glass bowl. 

"How am I going to understand any of this if you won't explain it?" Fíli spread his hands out. "My brother's life could depend on on this link." 

"Not could. Does." 

"What does that mean?"

Silently, Legolas fetched the kettle hanging over the fireplace, bringing it over to the table and carefully pouring boiling water into the bowl which held most of the leaves and stems. A cloud of steam arose from the bowl, dissipating throughout the room and bringing with it a smell Fíli could only describe as "green."

The scent reminded Fíli of the first sunny day in spring when they were young, when the spring flowers would push their way up through the leaf mulch in Dís's garden in their little house in Dunland. He found himself relaxing despite himself. Judging by the easing of tension in the Elf's shoulders, he wasn't the only one affected by the smell.

Legolas placed the handful of leaves he had kept out of the bowl into a mortar and began crushing them into a paste with the pestle. As he worked, he said quietly, "Elves who are profoundly connected can form a _faelif_ , a soul-link. Some can use this to communicate over great distances, but more commonly it is simply a feeling of the other's soul and emotions. Elves who share such a link are never truly alone, no matter how many miles might separate them."

Fíli snapped his fingers. "That's why Kíli kept saying he saw Tauriel."

"He saw her? Why did you not tell me?"

"I thought he was hallucinating. He said he saw Tauriel before but now he can't."

Legolas's jaw worked and for a moment he looked young and frightened. "He cannot see her anymore?"

"That's what he told me tonight. Why? What does that mean?"

"To share a _faelif_ is to be both blessed and terribly vulnerable. It is a piece of one's soul stretching across the distance between two mortal bodies. If it is broken, it can have dire consequences. If your brother cannot feel Tauriel's soul anymore, it could simply mean that he has lost his ability to sense it because he is no longer being dosed with the healer's potions." The Elf closed his eyes for a moment. "Or it could mean that Tauriel is dead."

Much though he disliked the Elf, he couldn't find it within himself to enjoy Legolas's obvious misery. "I'm sorry. I know she is your friend."

"I know that it is inevitable, but I had hoped for a few centuries before..."

"Before what?"

"Do you still not understand? Falling in love with a mortal spells Tauriel's doom."

"Because of the soul-link?"

"Partly. It is possible to love deeply without developing a _faelif_ , and even with one the death of a spouse can be survived if one's _fae_ is strong enough. But I know Tauriel better than I know my own self. Whether in a month or a hundred years, she will fade when your brother dies."

"Are you in love with Tauriel?" The question burst out before Fíli could think better of it.

Instead of storming away angrily, as Fíli more than half-expected, Legolas calmly set the mortar and pestle aside. He stood with his hands braced on the table for a few moments before answering, "I love her as a friend of the heart does. Once I thought that I was in love with her. But she has never seen me as anything more than a brother."

"Brother?" Fíli asked, startled.

"Not in blood. My mother took Tauriel in after her clan was slaughtered by orcs."

"You have a mother?" He winced as he realized an obvious reason why he might not have seen any sign of an Elvenqueen in Thranduil's palace. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up, errr."

"My mother is not dead. She lives in the forest about a day's ride north of my father's palace. She and my father...they had a disagreement some years ago about--well, it does not matter. But yes, my mother is alive and she raised Tauriel after she was orphaned. Tauriel is as close to a sister as I am ever likely to have."

"You said that your father exiled her."

"Yes, he did." Legolas gave him a tight smile. "You will note that I no longer reside in my father's kingdom."

"Ah." He had wondered about that.

"Now, what is the plan for how we will re-enter Erebor?"

"We?" Fíli shook his head, wondering if he'd misheard the Elf.

"If she yet lives, then in order to save Tauriel we must save Kíli. To save your brother, we must find out what has been done to him by King Dáin's so-called Healer." 

Legolas laid his hand over his heart, bowing his head gracefully. "Until we succeed in the attempt or die trying, you may consider me to be at your command."

***

Plans had been made, plots had been hatched, and co-conspirators had been gathered. While their company cooled their heels as "honored guests" of the Elvenking, Bilbo had taken the opportunity to write two letters. The first letter had been sent along with Elladan as he traveled on an errand into Mirkwood accompanied by one of the guards that Rhemyrn had brought in on the conspiracy.

The second letter was to be delivered the morning of their departure. Once Bilbo was satisfied with the wording, he folded it into an envelope and sealed it with a blob of soft wax into which he imprinted the acorn carved into his waistcoat buttons, the closest he could come to an official Baggins seal. 

The letter was addressed to "King Thranduil Oropherion, The Halls of the Elvenking, Mirkwood, The Wilderlands, Rhovanion," and read as follows:

_Your Majesty,_

_I write this letter to you as a friend of Tauriel of Imladris, late of Mirkwood, and (one hopes) soon to be of Erebor as well. I have known Tauriel for approximately four months, not counting the time she spent walking from Erebor to Mithlond and from thence to the Shire. A journey she took out of desperation after you cruelly--and with a marked lack of concern for her safety and well-being--banished her from the only home she had ever known._

_We will not discuss whether her banishment was justified, for I am certain you will never admit that you cannot condemn Tauriel for wishing to save the life of her beloved, just as I know that you will refuse to believe that Kíli and Tauriel are truly in love. Yet I have witnessed the love between them with my own eyes and rarely have I seen a couple so purely devoted to each other, though all the world seems at times to be aligned against them._

_But I digress. The purpose of this letter is not to attempt to convince your cold, dead heart of the truth of Kíli and Tauriel's love; I know that would be a vain pursuit._

_In the end, whether or not Tauriel's actions in leaving the Woodland Realm are excusable or treasonous is immaterial. What matters is that you threw out a young woman whom you had raised from childhood the first time that she dared to defy you._

_You, your majesty, are a poor excuse for a father._

_No doubt you have some self-serving justification for why you could not possibly be considered to be Tauriel's father. To that I say balderdash, poppycock, and what's more--shame on you. You may not be her father by blood, but you took that responsibility upon your shoulders when you took in an orphaned child, and you have failed her in almost every respect._

_It is entirely possible that you have stopped reading this missive already. Most likely you tossed it into the fire unread while you poured yourself another glass of wine. However, I feel that it would be remiss of me if I did not take this opportunity to extend my regards once more to Queen Meriliel. I hope some day soon to finally make your acquaintance, my lady._

_Most sincerely,_

_Bilbo Baggins_

***

Thranduil had indeed paused to pour himself more wine mid-way through reading the letter, but contrary to the Hobbit's prediction he had not tossed the letter into the fire. He had read the missive while pacing back and forth before his throne, at first bitterly amused and then seething with slowly mounting anger. In fact he had already begun mentally composing an absolutely scathing reply before he reached the final sentences of the last paragraph.

He puzzled at it for a moment before deciding that perhaps the Hobbit had not been informed of Meriliel's long absence from her husband's side. Or more likely, he had meant the greeting as a final dig against Thranduil's perceived faults as both a father and husband.

Thranduil tossed the pages of the letter, slightly crumpled now from the force of his grip, onto the seat of his throne. "Fetch a scribe," he ordered the nearest guard. "I wish to dictate a letter." 

He had barely finished giving the order when the sound of fleet footsteps reached his ears. A messenger crossed the bridge before the throne at a full run, sliding to a stop before bowing to him. "Your Majesty."

"Speak," he ordered with a negligent wave of his hand. "What news bring you?"

"Your Majesty, it is the Queen." 

A fanfare sounded from the front gates of the palace, signalling that the Queen had returned. It was a sound that had not been heard in Thranduil's halls for more than one hundred and fifty years.

"... _Meleth nín_..." he whispered. 

Overcome with emotion, Thranduil staggered slightly and sat down on his throne much harder than he had meant to. The sheets of paper crumpling under him sounded strangely like an accusation.

"Queen Meriliel has returned!"

***

Tauriel could not help but notice that Bilbo had seemed extremely pleased with himself all that morning. 

Their company had slipped out of the palace using a back exit which Rhemyrn had ensured would only be patrolled by guards willing to turn a blind eye as their "honored guests" departed. They hoped that the commotion caused by Queen Meriliel's return would keep anyone loyal to King Thranduil from noticing that they were missing until they were safely away. It was a bold plan that depended a great deal on chance. However, even before the success of their escape plan became certain, Bilbo had seemed to be overflowing with self-satisfaction. 

Tauriel had some suspicions of what might have caused such smug complacency.

Once they were far enough away that they could safely stop to water the horses, Tauriel caught him for a moment alone and asked, "Rhemyrn told me that you sent a letter with her and Lord Elladan to give to the Queen. What did you say to her in that message?"

"Oh, you know us Hobbits. We rarely speak of anything of consequence, really." Bilbo smiled up at her with wide, guileless eyes. "Why, we could spend all day doing nothing but gossiping about our families."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> e uipada mintaur - he forever walks in the forest (not a canon phrase)  
> fae - spirit (Sindarin term for fëa)  
> faelif - soul-link  
> le fael - thank you (literally "you are generous")  
> meleth nín - my love  
> mellon - friend  
> nae - alas  
> pîn elloth - little flower
> 
> ***
> 
> Regarding Sigrid's age: Sigrid is 18 in the Flowers timeline.
> 
> "Athwart the hawse" is an archaic nautical term meaning that the forward sections of two ships are in danger of colliding, either by accident or design.
> 
> [Yvaine](http://remusjohnslupin.tumblr.com/post/109538175853/female-awesome-meme-2-5-females-in-a-movie) from the movie Stardust is my fantasy casting for [Meriliel](http://boromirs.tumblr.com/post/110679281223).


	19. Into the Gloaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The_dragongirl is working on podficcing Flowers! Check out the link in the "works inspired by" section!

Before they had escaped from the palace, Tauriel had found a moment to pull Rhemyrn aside from the rest of the group and tell her, "You should leave Mirkwood with us. If King Thranduil finds out that you have helped us to escape, I fear what he might do to you in his wrath."

"The worst he can do is exile me. And if he does..." The young guard shrugged. "I have always wanted to travel. I shall journey to the east and see if I can find my father's people. Unless the King throws me in prison, that is."

Tauriel shook her head, but she knew already that there was no changing Rhemyrn's mind when she had it set. "If the King imprisons you, I will return and break you out myself."

Rhemyrn laughed out loud, garnering suspicious looks from the Dwarves who were gathered nearby. "I do believe that you would succeed in that. Safe travels, Captain."

Already knowing what the response would be, Tauriel did not bother to protest that she was no longer her Captain. "Stars guide your steps."

"Will she be alright?" Bilbo asked as they watched Rhemyrn hurry away to take care of the final arrangements.

"I think that she will. Queen Meriliel will make sure of it." She had spoken to reassure Bilbo, but the mere mention of the Queen made Tauriel feel better about the situation. With Queen Meriliel returned to the palace, surely all would be well in the Woodland Realm.

Bilbo looked skeptical. "Can she really keep King Thranduil in line?"

" _Mellon_ , if you had ever met the Queen you would not ask such a question." 

"Why did she leave him?"

Tauriel remembered the cold, bitter argument between Thranduil and Meriliel over his failure to provide aid to the victims of Smaug's attack. She had known that their union was faltering for centuries before that, but there was nothing that she could do except to distance herself from them in an attempt to avoid creating more tension between the King and Queen. In the end, it had not mattered; Tauriel had estranged herself from Meriliel for no purpose. That stung badly, perhaps most of all. 

Thranduil had not always been the tyrant that the Company had met. He had never been soft or kind, precisely, but he had been an honorable and well-beloved King in her earliest memories, before the rot had settled into the heart of Mirkwood. Tauriel was too young to remember Greenwood the Great, but even as Mirkwood the forest had not always been so corrupted. It seemed to her that as the forest had darkened so had her King's heart.

Tauriel did not know how to explain any of this in such a way that someone who had not been there would understand, so she only answered with, "I cannot say." 

She knew that he did not believe her, but Bilbo was kind enough not to press further.

Rhemyrn had arranged for food and supplies to be left for them at Forest Guard caches along the route between the palace and Dale. At the end of their first day of travel they stopped long enough to retrieve the first of these caches, which were hidden high in the trees on camouflaged platforms. 

"We should make camp soon," Elladan said.

Tauriel had been already considering that question, matching up their location to her mental map of Mirkwood as they traveled. "I agree. There is an abandoned village not far from here that should be fairly easy to make defensible."

Bilbo looked alarmed. "Do we really need to worry about defending ourselves from King Thranduil's forces? I thought the entire point of convincing Queen Meriliel to return to the palace was to prevent him from sending his guards after us."

"Yes it was, and I am sure that if our gambit had not been successful we would already have been re-captured," Tauriel said, urging her horse into a walk. "But King Thranduil's forces are not the greatest peril of this forest. Or have you forgotten the giant spiders already?"

"Horrid creatures." Scowling at the trees, Bilbo rested his hand on the hilt of the Elven-made dagger that he wore as a sword. "If they attack again, my sting will be ready for them."

The village was where she had remembered, a huddle of small circular stone buildings among the roots of the great trees. Most of the houses were still in fairly good condition though a few of the slate roofs had caved in. 

They settled into the largest house, which Tauriel thought might have been the Clan Mother's house when this village had still been inhabited. Once they determined that the firepit in the center of the house was still usable, they got a fire going. Warmed by the fire and sheltered against the dangers of the forest, the abandoned house was surprisingly comfortable. 

"This village wouldn't look out of place in the Shire!" Bilbo exclaimed. "Not at all what I was expecting."

"What did you expect it would be like?" Tauriel asked.

"Oh, that you'd live in the trees, I suppose."

"Tree camps are only temporary. They're not defensible enough for long-term protection. A dozen giant spiders could overrun one of them in minutes."

She couldn't quite read his expression. "Your people...they are constantly at war, aren't they?"

"War is a bit of an exaggeration, _mellon_. Mirkwood is a dangerous place; we have simply done what we can to adapt to it."

"What happened to the people who lived in this village? Were they...?" He trailed off, looking disturbed.

"No, I believe that they merged with a clan to the north of the palace." She was not sure why she avoided divulging the information that surely they had merged with the larger clan for greater protection against the spiders and Orcs. Perhaps now that the forest's corruption seemed to have lessened, they could return to their former homes.

"I was rather imagining that they had been kidnapped in their sleep by giant spiders... silly of me, I suppose." Chuckling to himself, Bilbo excused himself to join Bofur for a pipe.

Tauriel had been aware that Dís was sitting nearby but so far Kíli's mother had refrained from saying anything to her that was not related to the basic necessities of travel. So it was with a great deal of surprise that she heard Dís comment, "You sounded like you knew what you were talking about, regarding defences against the giant spiders." 

This was the first time that Dís had sought her out for conversation in all their weeks of travel. Tauriel carefully kept her face neutral despite her feelings of astonishment. "I was the Captain of the Mirkwood Forest Guard for over a hundred years. If I did not know how to predict the tactics of our greatest enemies, I would be a poor Captain indeed."

"True, true." Dís looked away, seemingly disinterested in the conversation although Tauriel was sure that was feigned. "Over a hundred years, you say. Then how many centuries old are you?"

"I am just past six hundred years of age. I am not a child among my people, but I am still considered young."

"Impressive that you reached such a position at your young age."

"I thank you," Tauriel said, relaxing a little as the conversation seemed to steer away from dangerous topics.

"Young, you say...and yet you are over five hundred years older than my son, and you will live on long after he has returned to the stone from whence he came."

The thought caused her physical pain, like a hand of ice twisting at her heart. Tauriel took a deep breath and said, "You are wrong about that. I shall not live long after Kíli passes from this world."

The look Dís gave her was openly assessing. "No? Elves are immortal, unless I am greatly mistaken."

Tauriel met her gaze squarely. "The ravages of time hold no danger for me, but I have never expected to live forever. I am a soldier, Lady Dís, and I have long expected that one day I shall find my end on the battlefield. Should Kíli die before me, I know that day will come sooner rather than later."

Dís's cold expression seemed to thaw a bit. "You do not need to call me by my title. We are kin now, after all. Call me Dís."

Tauriel nodded to her, feeling cautiously pleased. "Dís, then. And please, call me Tauriel."

"So, Tauriel... have you given much thought to the naming of my grandchild?"

Tauriel's eyes widened. "No?"

Dís made a disapproving noise. "Let me make one thing clear. There will be none of those excessively long and complicated Elven names for a child of the line of Durin. The heir to the throne of Erebor will have a good, solid Dwarven name."

Eyeing her mother-in-law in consternation, Tauriel found herself wishing once more that Kíli was there with her.

***

Mirkwood was not quite Bilbo's least favorite place in the world (the caves under the Misty Mountain held that dubious honor) but it was close. 

Several more days of travel through the forest followed the evening they had spent in the abandoned village, but never again did they have such comfortable accommodations. As unpleasant as it was, though, at least this time they were not hopelessly lost and suffering from hallucinations. 

After he expressed that opinion to Tauriel, she questioned him closely about what exactly had happened to the Company before they encountered Tauriel and Legolas's patrol on that fateful day. 

"Did you happen to gather fallen branches to use as firewood before the hallucinations began?" she asked.

"For all the good it did us. The wood gave off more foul-smelling smoke than heat or light."

She nodded, looking satisfied with his answer. "Ah, then that explains it. I believe that you ran afoul of the spores of a fungus that lives on the bark of certain trees in Mirkwood. It can cause hallucinations and irrational behavior in those who have been exposed to it."

He felt a little silly about it now, but admitted, "We thought it was Elven magic."

The edges of her lips curled up in a little smirk. "Not exactly. Mirkwood has a way of creating its own defenses. Did I tell you that Queen Meriliel's estate to the north has a wall of roses?"

"A rose hedge? They're lovely, but I really don't see how that could be much of a defense."

"And if I tell you that it is thirty feet tall and has foot-long thorns which are as sharp as knives?"

Bilbo huffed, exasperated and yet unwillingly amused. "Leave it to Mirkwood to make something as innocuous as a rose hedge into a weapon."

"I have not even mentioned that the thorns move on their own and will kill Orcs and Giant Spiders who try to breach the wall."

Bilbo gaped at her. "You're not having me on, are you?"

She shook her head. "I swear to you that I am not."

"Honestly! _Mirkwood_."

Tauriel laughed. The sound of was not like bells chiming, as he had many times read the merriment of Elves described. Her laughter held the note of something essentially wild, like the sound of a hawk's cry on the wind. Bilbo saw all three of the Dwarves turn to stare. _Good_ , he thought. It would do them well to learn that not all Elves were like King Thranduil or Lord Elrond.

Beorn had been right, in a way, when he'd said that the Wood Elves were less wise and more dangerous than their kin in Rivendell. Except that the main difference, as Bilbo saw it, was that Silvan Elves were more like mortals than any other Elves that he had encountered. Thranduil and Elrond were outside of time in an essential way, like perfect, unchanging statues. Tauriel, though...she _was_ change.

No wonder King Thranduil had tried to imprison her, Bilbo thought. If there was one thing that the Elvenking feared, it was change.

The pursuit that Bilbo had feared never materialized. Before too many more days had passed, they were rounding the northern edge of the Long Lake and approaching the outskirts of Dale. They made camp early that night, keeping well out of sight of any patrols from Erebor and Dale, and gathered together a Council of War of sorts.

"We must discover the current lay of the land in Erebor before we enter," Dís said. "I will go into Dale on my own. No one from the Iron Hills would recognize me except for my cousin."

"Not on your own, surely," Bilbo objected. "It's far too dangerous."

"My brother and I can enter the city," Elladan said. "No one will connect the sons of Elrond to a plot to free Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews from imprisonment."

Nori chuckled. "Well, that might be true, but you'll stick out like a diamond in gravel. No one is going to talk to a couple of Elven toffs. And the same goes for you," he said, pointing at Tauriel before she could do more than open her mouth. "Additionally speaking you shouldn't enter Dale at all, seeing as the bun in your oven is the rightful heir to the throne of Erebor and that furthermore you're a fugitive from the Woodland Realm."

"Nori is the expert on getting in where you're not supposed to," Bofur chimed in. "I'd listen to him if I were you."

To Bilbo's surprise, Tauriel gave in without a fight. "You are correct, Master Nori. Though it pains me greatly to be of no use, I cannot dispute your arguments in this matter."

"Finally, somebody actually listens to the thief," Nori said in tones of great satisfaction.

"I can sneak into the city. No, hear me out," Bilbo said as the others began to object. "I assure you that I can get in and out of Dale without anyone seeing me."

"Hobbit magic," Bofur exclaimed. "Bilbo, that's brilliant!"

Bilbo opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to figure out how to explain his ability to disappear in a way that involved neither imaginary "Hobbit magic" nor his ring. Part of him hissed angrily at the very idea of showing his ring to anyone else. Between the two options, it seemed the lesser of two evils to continue to allow his friends to believe that Hobbits had magical powers of invisibility. 

"Yyyyyyes," he said after a pause that had perhaps gone on a few moments too long. "I shall sneak into Dale using my "Hobbit magic.""

"Then we are agreed. Bilbo, Nori, and I will enter Dale," Dís said briskly. "We should leave before first light so that there are less people on the streets."

There was a little more discussion of the hows and whys, but the plan was really very simple: Dís, Nori, and Bilbo would enter Dale as quietly as possible and attempt to get the lay of the land without gathering any attention. Bilbo approved; in his experience, it was always the overly complicated plans that ended up going sideways over a cliff. Sometimes literally.

After the discussion was done and the group had dispersed, Bilbo sought out Tauriel. He found her sitting against a tree trunk barely within the circle of light from the campfire. She looked as if she were brooding, so he let the silence settle around them for a while before saying, "You seem to be out of sorts, _mellon_."

A muscle in her jaw flexed. Bilbo thought at first that she would not answer. "I thought...I thought that as we grew closer to Erebor I would see Kíli's spirit again. It has been months now, Bilbo-- _months_ \--without a sign of my beloved. We share a soul link. Surely I would know if he...I--I have faith that he still lives, but why can I not feel him?" Her eyes were brim-full of misery. 

"Oh, my dear girl." Bilbo laid his hand on her much larger one and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "I am sure he's fine. I don't claim to know how these soul links work but perhaps it's even a good sign that he's not wandering about in ghostly form anymore. I mean, that can't possibly be good for a body."

Her eyebrows drew together. "That is possible, I suppose. I pray that you are right." After a long pause, she turned to him with guilt written across her features. "Forgive me, Bilbo. I know that you must be greatly concerned for Thorin Oakenshield's safety, and here I am asking you for reassurance once more."

"Nonsense, my dear. You know I am always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on."

"But as they say, the trees which lean together stand strongest against the northern winds...ah, my apologies, I do not believe that translates well," she said, shaking her head in mild annoyance. "What the saying means is that true friends endure troubles together. I would be a poor friend indeed if I always burdened you with my fears and never allowed you to do the same.

" _Mellon nín_ , I know that you are worried about Thorin Oakenshield. Come, let me be your shoulder for once."

Grumbling to himself, he slowly and meticulously packed and lit his pipe in the hopes that she would relent. Tauriel watched him silently with patient eyes. 

At last he admitted, "Well yes, I am worried. How could I not be, when the last word we had of Thorin was that he had died of his wounds, and there's been no sign of him in all the months since the battle? If Dáin Ironfoot has in fact usurped the throne of Erebor then he might keep the lads as hostages, but he would be a fool not to kill the rightful King while he had the chance."

He remembered his last sight of Thorin. He'd looked strangely peaceful in those last moments, lying so very still on the icy ground. Thorin could almost have been sleeping, if not for the blood and gore covering his armor and splashed across his face.

"I am sorry, Bilbo." This time she laid her hand on his and squeezed. It was surprising how comforting such a small gesture could be. "I pray to the Hunter and his Lady that we will find all three of them safe."

Bilbo took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Yes, well. We shall find out soon enough, either way."

***

Ever since Bain had found out at a young and impressionable age that his father was the descendant of Lord Girion himself, he'd dreamed of what it would be like to be a Prince of Dale. Head bent over a knotted fish net, he'd lost himself in daydreams of eating all the food he wanted and never having to gut a fish ever again. (Bain _hated_ gutting.)

He had never imagined the sheer number of boring, pointless meetings involved in governing a city. Da wanted him to learn how to be King after him, so he had Bain sitting in on endless trade negotiations with blank-faced Elves and shouting Dwarves. At least the Dwarves were entertaining, even if he sometimes couldn't understand what they were saying. The Elves were just boring--not at all exciting or heroic like Prince Legolas and Captain Tauriel. But what was even worse than the trade meetings were the history lessons that Da insisted upon. 

That morning, unable to stand the thought of listening to his tutor drone on about the history of boring old Gondor for one more morning, Bain had gotten up before the crack of dawn and slipped out of the manor before anyone but the servants were stirring. He'd catch hell from Da later, but as he wandered down the street munching on a fresh sausage roll bought from a market cart, he couldn't help but think that it was worth it. Why should Sigrid be the only one excused from lessons, after all? It wasn't fair.

Not that Bain wanted to sit in a stuffy sick-room all day, but they could at least have asked him. And maybe he could have helped Prince Legolas and Prince Fíli with something (he had no idea what that "something" would be, but he was sure it'd be thrilling and dangerous, with lots of in-the-nick-of-time escapes.) Oh, he knew all about the Dwarves and Elves staying in the old servants' quarters. He and Sigrid told each other everything--well, mostly everything. So he was well up to speed on the whole saga of the visitors who had been hiding out in the old servants' quarters. (Though he could have done without quite so much information about one Dwarven Prince in particular...)

So it was that the events of the previous November were right at the forefront of his mind as he glanced idly across the pre-dawn market square (busy even at this hour, as merchants hurried to get their wares arranged before the first shoppers arrived) and saw a familiar-looking figure disappearing around a corner into an alleyway. Shorter and slighter than a Dwarf, it could have been a child of Man or even of Elf, but Bain was certain that it was neither of those things.

He shoved the rest of the roll in his mouth as he hurried to get to the other side of the square before the figure completely disappeared into the maze of streets, alleyways, and seemingly random staircases that made up the older portions of Dale.

Rounding the corner and seeing the figure turning a corner not far away, Bain broke into a run. As he rounded the corner someone caught his arm and twisted, slamming him painfully against the rough wall of a building. 

Bain yelped in pain and instinctively pulled away, which was a mistake because it meant that his arm was twisted even more. He went limp, hoping that whoever it was would be satisfied with taking his coin purse and leave him unharmed.

"You tell us who sent you or I stick you in the kidneys, how's that sound," the person holding his arm growled, shoving something sharp-feeling against his lower back. _Oh shit_ , Bain thought -- a knife, that was definitely a knife.

"No one sent me! I just thought I saw someone I knew and I was trying to catch up with him."

"You're not good at lying." The knife pressed harder and Bain made an embarrassing whimpering noise, certain that he was about to die.

A familiar-sounding voice snapped, "Oh, for pity's sake! That's Bain, Bard's son. Let him go, Nori. _Dwarves_ ," he added in an aggrieved-sounding mutter.

Bain's arm was released and he could feel his captor stepping back. Massaging his aching elbow, he turned around and found the Hobbit, Bilbo, standing next to a vaguely familiar-looking ginger-haired Dwarf and a female Dwarf whom Bain did not recognize.

"Morning, Bain. Sorry for Nori's lack of manners," Bilbo said.

"Master Bilbo!" Bain said, genuinely pleased. He hadn't spent much time with the Hobbit, but he remembered him as one of the friendliest members of the ragged company that his Da had smuggled into Lake-Town in barrels. "I wondered if you would show up."

Bilbo looked confused. "You were expecting me?"

"Not exactly, but since Prince Legolas got here I wondered if any of the rest of you would follow. Though I must admit I expected Captain Tauriel before you."

"Prince Legolas...King Thranduil's son is here?"

"Oh, sure. He came to Dale after the battle and he's been helping us rebuild."

"Prince Legolas could be a useful contact," Bilbo said with a noncommittal shrug at the Dwarves. "He is Tauriel's foster-brother, more or less."

The female Dwarf shook her head. "There is absolutely no reason to involve another Elf in this matter."

"He might have more information about what has been happening in Erebor since Nori and Bofur left," Bilbo pointed out.

The Dwarf with the pointy hairstyle twirled a small knife casually. "Give me two hours in Erebor and I'll be able to tell you what Dáin had for breakfast."

"Well, you could just ask Ori. Or the princes I suppose, though Sigrid said the dark-haired one isn't really talking right now." 

All three of them turned to stare at him. Bain gulped and tried to stop slouching. 

Then pandemonium broke out and it seemed like everyone was asking him questions at the same time without giving him a moment to respond. Bain backed up until his heels hit the wall.

"Bain," Bilbo said in a deliberately calm voice. "Are you saying that Fíli and Kíli are in Dale? Right now?"

"Well, yes. My sister Sigrid is with them. Why, didn't you know they were here?"

Bain wasn't quite why they were all looking at him as if he'd grown two heads.

***

The wait for Dís, Nori, and Bilbo to return from Dale seemed endless. 

Tauriel paced restlessly around the camp at first, but after a while she could tell that she was beginning to annoy even the perpetually jovial Bofur. Sitting at some distance from the rest of the group, she forced herself to go through some of the calming exercises that she had learned during her Guard training. After a while she managed to fall into a light trance, but she found that she was too worried and agitated to maintain it for long.

She opened her eyes and sighed, annoyed with herself. Even the youngest Forest Guard trainee could do better at meditation than she was currently managing. As if in agreement, she felt the fluttering sensation of the babe shifting restlessly within her womb. _All will be well_ , she thought, trying to reassure herself just as much as her little flower. _We will find your papa soon._

"Tauriel," Elrohir said, coming to stand before her and bowing to her politely. "May I be of service? I could not help but notice that you are having some difficulty with meditating."

Despite Bilbo's fears, she had not experienced any problems so far with her pregnancy. Elrohir had not been called upon for more than periodic examinations to be sure that everything was progressing normally (or as normally as could be expected of a half-Dwarven/half-Elven pregnancy.) Still, they had become comfortable together during the weeks of travel and she thought that perhaps they were even on the verge of becoming friends. 

Tauriel nodded and shifted so that they could sit facing each other with their legs folded beneath them. His even tenor voice as soothing as his calmness of spirit, Elrohir led her through a deep scan of her body and then into a light meditative trance. 

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes after they were done, feeling relaxed and relieved of some of the tension that had been riding her. "Thank you," she told him.

"It is my pleasure. The baby is still healthy," he added before she could ask. "I believe you may not have needed me to attend you at all on this journey. Not that I am unhappy to have accompanied you, of course."

"Yes, but I am sure many have missed you at home in Rivendell. Your father of course...and perhaps even Lindir," she added in a gently teasing voice.

He tipped his head to her, keeping his face politely blank but unable to hide the smile in his eyes. "You may have the right of it. Though my father tells me that absence can make an uncertain heart find its true path."

"Who are we to argue with the wisdom of Lord Elrond?" Their eyes met and they shared a smile. Tauriel hoped that the long separation would relieve Lindir's mind of whatever had caused him to hesitate about accepting Elrohir's suit. 

Her eyes slid past Elrohir and she suppressed a sigh as she saw his twin disappearing into the forest with his bow. "How is your brother?" she asked bluntly. She did not have the patience to dance around the subject with proper Court etiquette.

Elrohir lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "He is recovering. His heart was bruised, not broken."

"I am relieved to hear that." Though she did not return his feelings, she had been worried about Elladan. Unrequited love could kill an Elf as surely as a poisoned arrow, if it was true love and not just infatuation or the type of affection that in time could grow to love.

"As am I. Though...much as I love my brother, I will tell you in confidence that I believe that his pride was just as bruised as his heart. He is not accustomed to being the pursuer rather than the pursued, and even less so to being rejected."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are the maidens of Rivendell so enamored of him?" Amused though she was, she could well believe it. The sons of Lord Elrond had inherited his striking looks and incisive intellect, though they shared a somewhat softer mien that was surely the influence of their mother.

"Rivendell, Lothlorien, Mithlond...in fact, it is not until we met Elves from Mirkwood that my brother first encountered ladies who appeared to find him not at all attractive."

"Ladies? Meaning more than...errr, me?"

Elrohir coughed politely to hide his amusement. "He has mentioned several times to me that he finds the guard Rhemyrn obstinate, headstrong, and entirely irksome. I am beginning to see a pattern forming of my brother developing an attraction to women who are utterly unimpressed with him."

"Really?" The thought of Elladan, self-assured to the point of arrogance, attempting to woo Rhemyrn, who despite her youth and relative inexperience could in fact be one of the most stubborn Elves Tauriel had ever met, was perhaps more amusing to her than it really should have been. 

"He has not spoken to me of his feelings, but I know my brother too well. I must ask--to your knowledge, is Rhemyrn already in love with another? Or is she one who does not care for the company of men?"

"Neither, as far as I am aware."

"Hmmm. Then perhaps my brother has an outside chance. If he can avoid annoying her for more than a few minutes at a time, that is."

They were still laughing quietly when they heard the signal that warned of someone approaching the camp. Tauriel and Elrohir sobered immediately, moving soundlessly through the trees in the direction from which the signal had originated. 

Reaching the overlook where Bofur had been posted on look-out they dropped to hands and knees and crawled forward so that they could look over the edge without being spotted. "One rider on the road," Bofur murmured almost soundlessly.

Tauriel knew that rider immediately. "It is Prince Legolas."

Bofur hissed, "Gravel and slate! The Elvenking's caught up with us."

"No, I do not believe it is so," she said. "Legolas has left his father's kingdom; he does not act on King Thranduil's orders. I will go to him on my own and find out what brings him here."

"Are you sure that is wise?" Elrohir asked.

"I trust him. Legolas would never betray me."

He nodded acknowledgement, dropping the hand he had raised to hold her back. Tauriel backed away from the edge far enough to disguise the location of the others before rising to her feet. Simply because she trusted Legolas was no reason to give up their advantage, just in case events proceeded in a far different way than she had anticipated.

"Prince Legolas, I must speak with you," she called in Sindarin as his horse approached on the road.

Legolas halted his horse and leapt smoothly to the ground. "Tauriel! I had feared the worst these long months, my friend," he responded in the same language as he approached her. "It is with joy in my heart that I find that you are well."

Her breath caught. She had hoped that he would still consider her to be a friend, but for him to speak to her with the same affection as he always had was more than she had dreamed of. "And you as well, my friend," she managed to respond after a moment.

He stepped close to her, smiling as he brushed a long strand of hair away from her face. "I have missed you so. You look--" She could tell the moment that he looked down and noticed the pronounced swell of her belly; his eyes grew wide with surprise and his mouth dropped open. She had never seen Legolas look so disconcerted.

"With child," she supplied when he seemed to be incapable of further speech.

"I stood as witness to your marriage with the Dwarf Prince and I know that you are as true and constant as the Evening Star. Tauriel, how can it be that you are with child?"

"Dwarf and Elf though we may be, Kíli is the father of my child." She raised her chin, wary of his response.

"Though this news seems passing strange, I do believe you." Legolas took a deep breath and let it out, then raised his eyes to meet hers. "My heart rejoices for you both."

"Truly?" She had not meant to sound so uncertain.

Legolas captured her hands in his and clasped them gently, raising them to his chest as he spoke. "May the stars watch over you and may your child be blessed by Eru Iluvatar."

She blinked hard, tears threatening to spill over. "Legolas..."

"Do not cry, my sister," he said softly. "Or if you do may they be tears of joy, for I bring you news of your husband. He yet lives, and is kept hidden in safety in the city of Dale by the grace of King Bard the Dragonslayer."

Though she would never tell Bilbo of it (for fear of his retaliation for all the teasing she had given him for fainting on his doorstep), it was only with a supreme effort of will that Tauriel kept to her feet after that revelation despite the buzzing in her head and a feeling of weightlessness that nearly overwhelmed her.

The next few hours passed in a haze. Afterwards she had no memory of the discussion of how Legolas would smuggle them into Dale and only a vague recollection of hiding in the back of a cart that smelt strongly of cabbages. She came back to herself as they disembarked from the cart in a small courtyard, secluded from view by a high wall and a solid wooden gate. There was a single door in the inner wall of the courtyard. At Legolas's knock, Kíli's brother Fíli opened the door and, smiling, beckoned for them to enter.

 _Surely this is a dream_ , Tauriel thought. That Kíli could be in Dale watched over by his brother and Legolas, rather than being held prisoner in Erebor, seemed almost too much to believe.

Her eyes barely took in the small kitchen and its inhabitants, skipping over their faces in frustration as she sought the one face that was missing. "Where is Kíli?"

"Prince Kíli is in there," Bard's daughter Sigrid said, the first words to pierce the haze in Tauriel's mind. She brushed past the girl without speaking, too focused on the door behind her to pay heed to anything else Sigrid said.

The door opened on a small bedroom, dimly lit by a fireplace and a few oil lamps and almost oppressively hot. A figure lay motionless under a thick layer of blankets and quilts on a large bed in the center of the room. Dís was sitting on a chair by the bedside with her head bowed.

Tauriel faltered in the doorway, holding onto the doorknob with a white-knuckled hand. "Kíli?"

The figure lying in the bed did not stir at the sound of her voice.

Sigrid appeared at her elbow. "Captain Tauriel, that's what I was trying to tell you--he has been unconscious for more than a day. He's not been waking for anything." There was more, but Tauriel had stopped listening again. 

The world seemed to go quiet and she felt like she was floating as she moved to Kíli's bedside. There was something pulling her to him, like a cord tugging at something buried deep in her chest. 

She stopped at his bedside and reached out, her hand hovering over his face for a moment without touching, afraid to find out that he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. "Kíli..."

He stirred restlessly, frowning in his sleep, and then stilled again. It was strange and deeply disturbing to see him lie so still; her beloved was normally in constant motion, fidgeting with his hands, taking things apart and trying to put them back together again. For Kíli to be completely motionless was _wrong_.

She sat on the side of the bed and leaned over him, their breath mingling as she whispered again, "Kíli?" 

"He hasn't responded yet to anything we say," Dís said in a rough voice. She took a deep breath before continuing, "But keep speaking to him. The Elf--Legolas--said that it might help. If anything can."

" _Nae, meleth nín! Gûrin nallon_." Finally daring to touch him, she stroked a fingertip along the tender skin of his temple and the stubbled curve of his cheekbone.

His eyes flickered open and he blinked for a few moments before focusing on her face. "Tauriel..."

"Kíli?"

His smile was like the sun rising, and as he reached up a trembling hand to clasp her fingers she felt his soul reaching out to her, a beacon blazing with light and guiding her home.

" _Amrâlimê_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> amrâlimê - my love
> 
> Sindarin:  
> gûrin nallon - my heart weeps (not a canon phrase)  
> meleth nín - my love  
> mellon nín - my friend  
> nae - alas


	20. In the Lee of the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Irrel](http://irrel.tumblr.com/) for creating [this absolutely gorgeous art](http://irrel.tumblr.com/post/110280012327/fanart-for-one-of-my-absolutely-favorite) of Kili and Tauriel as the Lovers Tarot card!

It was with a feeling of reluctance that Dís closed the door to the sick-room behind her, but she too had once been young and in love. She knew that her son needed at least a few minutes of privacy with his beloved now that they had found each other again.

For Kíli truly loved the Elf girl Tauriel, of that she had no doubt. Later she could scold her son for speaking their sacred language in front of an Elf, but she would have had to have had a heart of coldest adamant not to be moved by the scene she had just witnessed.

"Is he...?" Fíli asked, starting to his feet.

She waved him back to his seat. "Your brother is conscious and speaking to Tauriel. They need a little bit of privacy before the invasion begins. That goes for all of you," she said to the entire group, most of whom looked about ready to break down the door to the sick-room. "Give them five minutes on their own. They haven't seen each other in almost a year."

Accepting a mug of tea from Bofur with a weary nod of thanks, Dís sat down next to Fíli. He quietly leaned his shoulder against hers, seeking reassurance through touch though she wasn't sure if he was even aware that he was doing it. Fíli had always been one to take too much on his shoulders, ever since his father had passed when he'd been a young Dwarfling.

Dís looked at the group gathered around the battered kitchen table. Three Elves, a Hobbit, two children of Men, and six Dwarves, united in worry about the second Prince of Erebor and his pregnant Elven wife. She hid a smile behind her mug, able to see the humor in what had to be the most unlikely gathering she'd ever been part of.

There were a few unfamiliar faces among the group. The young Dwarf seated next to Nori had been introduced to her as Nori's younger brother, Ori. Bain and Sigrid were apparently the children of the King of Dale, who had unofficially turned a blind eye to the fugitives from Erebor hiding in the old servants' quarters of his manor. Dís could appreciate the difficult position that King Bard had been put into, but she also understood that by not officially giving them sanctuary, he had left himself plausible deniability with Dáin in case things went sour. 

At the other end of the table, there sat an oddly familiar-looking Dwarf woman with dark skin, her brown hair worn in a multitude of thin braids with no strands left loose. Dís remembered a caravan guard on their long ago journey from Dunland to the Blue Mountains who had worn her hair that way. They had shared quiet conversations together in the early evenings while Thorin watched her sons and Dís had grown fond of her, though the memory was tainted now by the argument that had ended their budding friendship. 

But it couldn't be the same woman, could it? No, she thought, surely that would be too much of a coincidence. It had been nearly seventy years ago and on the far side of the Misty Mountains, after all.

"Prince Legolas, Tofa, Ori, and I were about to leave and attempt to enter Erebor on our own," Fíli continued, explaining to the newcomers, "when young Bain brought Mam, Bilbo, and Nori right to our doorstep. Another half hour and you would have missed all of us except for Kíli, who we were planning on leaving in Sigrid's care." 

The caravan guard's name had also been Tofa. Dís scrutinized her features, but the woman that she had known had worn a scarf that covered her face below the eyes for most of their acquaintance and it had been so many years ago that her memories were cloudy. She could not be sure either way without asking the woman directly.

Fíli let out a long sigh, rubbing his face wearily. "At least we should have an easier time dealing with Skalgar's men now that we have more warriors on our side."

"Skalgar's men?" Her attention caught, Dís lowered her mug of tea to the table. "Who is Skalgar? Dáin's pet healer?"

"Not his pet, but his master," Tofa answered. "Everyone in the palace knows it is Skalgar who is in command in Erebor."

If Skalgar was in command, not Dáin, then it would mean that their cousin was not the treacherous deceiver they had thought. Dís's heart rose for a moment and then her natural pragmatism reasserted itself. "I would like to believe that. You have no idea how much I would rather believe that explanation than to think that my cousin could be so treacherous. But I know Dáin Ironfoot and I know that he would never accept being commanded by anyone."

Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Fíli said, "I think Tofa might have the right of it, though. I spoke to Dáin one day while I was prisoner, and I don't know how to explain it, but there was something not right about him." He fumbled for words for a second and then added, "I know that it sounds mad, but as we were speaking I swear that his eyes flickered with a strange blue sheen at one point."

"A blue sheen, you say?" Elladan asked, sending a meaningful look to his brother. Elrohir looked thoughtful but did not say anything.

"Could Dáin be under some sort of compulsion?" Bilbo asked. "What do we know about this healer, anyway?"

"He's not from the Iron Hills originally." Ori gulped and straightened his shoulders as everyone at the table turned to look at him. "I overheard a couple of the Iron Hills Dwarves talking about how much better things were before Skalgar got there. They stopped talking pretty quick once they realized I was there, but from what I overheard, it's only been for the past ten or so years that Skalgar has been with Dáin's court."

"Smart lad," Nori muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Ori fairly glowed with happiness at his brother's praise.

"Skalgar isn't well liked by many of the Iron Hills Dwarves," Tofa said. "They're loyal to Dáin, and they see Skalgar as an interloper. That's why he had to hire mercenaries to work as guards."

"Is that where you enter the story?" Dís asked. Though she was sure this couldn't be the same woman, and she knew it was unfair, she couldn't help but feel antagonistic toward her simply based on her resemblance to the Tofa that Dís had known long ago. 

Tofa met her eyes calmly. "Yes. I was hired to guard prisoners in Erebor."

"You were a guard? How is it that you ended up here with my sons in Dale?"

"That is a long story indeed."

"Not that long of a story. Tofa helped us rescue Kíli from Erebor." Fíli grinned at Tofa smugly when she shot him an annoyed glance, probably because he had boiled down her "long story" to a sentence.

"Why are you helping us?" Dís asked. "You were one of Dáin's mercenaries after all. How can we trust you when you are forsworn?"

Tofa's eyes narrowed and she said in a controlled tone, "I am not forsworn. I swore an oath that predated my contract with Dáin and rendered it invalid."

"What oath? Sworn to whom?"

"Mam, leave off. I trust Tofa." Fíli looked a lot like his father with that look of quiet determination in his eyes. "I do not need to know the nature of her oath. All I need to know is that she has aided us at great personal cost to herself."

Dís nodded to him and sat back, folding her hands to indicate that she was letting the matter drop. Fíli was beginning to grow into the role of Crown Prince in Thorin's absence and she would not question his decisions in front of the others. Later, in private, was an entirely different matter, of course.

"Without Tofa's help, I would probably have been killed by the other guard who discovered us," Ori said.

"Aye, and I'd still be rotting in a prison cell, and Kíli..." Fíli swallowed hard before continuing. "According to Legolas, Kíli might not have lasted out the week."

"Indeed, his spirit had become unmoored from his body to such a degree that I feared he might never waken," Prince Legolas said. 

Dís's heart lurched at the reminder of how terribly sick her youngest son had been. She had spent the past hour sitting by his bedside praying that Mahal would spare Kíli's life long enough for him to meet his infant son or daughter. If Tauriel could bring Kíli back from the brink of death then Dís would not only support their union, she would personally punch anyone who dared to criticize it right in their judgemental noses.

"Loath though I am to disturb their privacy, I believe that we must. Lord Elrohir, if you would accompany me?" Legolas asked. "I have been told that you are well-versed in the art of healing."

"I have some small measure of my father's skill," Elrohir said, rising to his feet.

Legolas knocked on the sick-room door and paused before entering to say, "That is a great relief upon my mind. Though I have been treating Prince Kíli to the best of my ability, I will freely admit that I am not a trained healer." The door closed behind them, muffling the rest of their conversation.

Dís tried to hide her fresh worry but she could tell that she had not fooled Fíli, who slid an arm around her waist and hugged her to his side. She tried to resist at first--he was the son and she was the mother, it was she who was supposed to be giving comfort to _him_ \--but she couldn't help letting out a long sigh and relaxing into the hug.

Her boys were together and safe, at least for the moment. Whatever else happened, at least she had that.

***

" _Amrâlimê_ ," Kíli whispered, staring up at the vision of beauty who leaned over him, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. "Tauriel."

"Kíli," she whispered, stroking her hand over his hair.

Kíli tried to speak again and coughed painfully, his mouth and throat dry and cottony-feeling. Someone handed Tauriel a cup and she held it to his mouth and helped him drink a few sips. The process seemed strangely familiar to him, as if he had been through this before many times. "Am I dreaming again?"

"It is not a dream." She sat on the bed next to him and lifted his hand to cup her cheek. "I am real, _meleth nín_. I am truly here."

His eyes flickered closed. As she touched him, he began to feel her again; not just her physical touch, but also an outpouring of love and happiness that he sensed with some part of himself he couldn't explain. It was like standing next to a campfire with his eyes closed; he couldn't see the fire, but he could feel its warmth against his skin. She was his fire.

"Tauriel. My love," he breathed as his eyes opened. He barely noticed the sound of the door quietly closing.

She looked just as she had in his visions of her. He traced his finger along the edge of the scar that ran the length of the right side of her face, seeing the newly white strands of hair where the scar hit her hairline. "It was real, then, all the times I saw you. You looked just like this..." 

A sudden thought struck him and his eyes dropped to the distinctly rounded shape of her stomach. With dawning joy, he said, "You really are with child. Our child." He was beginning to worry that this was a dream again because it was too perfect to be true. 

Smiling, she guided his hand to rest on her stomach. "Feel."

After half a minute or so, he felt a faint fluttering sensation under his palm. Kíli's mouth dropped open in wonder. "Is that...?"

"Yes. Our _pîn elloth_ has inherited your restless spirit, it seems." Her eyes were bright with tears despite her wide smile. 

Beaming, Kíli tried to sit up to hold her in his arms and only then realized how weak he felt. His arms shook with strain as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. "What's wrong with me?"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You have been ill, my love. Do not strain yourself."

"How ill could I have been?" Making a disgusted noise, he gave in to the gentle pressure of her hand and subsided into the bed. "I swear that I felt better than this after the Morgul arrow."

"You were--I think that you were dying, _meleth_ \--" Her voice broke and the tears she had been holding back began trickling down her cheeks.

" _Gimlinh_ , do not cry. I'm not dying, I promise. Come here," he said, reaching his arms toward her. Tauriel lay down on her side, resting her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her as best he could.

He felt slightly panicked at first. Tauriel was _crying_ and he didn't know how to make her feel better! Except that then he realized that somehow he did know--he knew that she wanted him to hold her in his arms and murmur softly to her in Khuzdul. Feeling a little befuddled, Kíli did exactly that and felt a warm glow in his heart as her tears slowed and finally stopped. (He did have the fleeting thought that his mother must _never know_ how much Khuzdul he'd spoken in front of an Elf, even though the Elf in question was his wife and the mother of his child.)

Their child. He felt a mixture of joy and terror at the thought as he realized that he had no idea how to care for an infant. Their little cousin Gimli hadn't been that much younger than him, and though he had vague recollections of Gimli as a baby, he certainly hadn't been paying much attention at that age. Surely his mother would help them, though. She might be a little...put off at first by the fact that his love was an Elf, but Dís would grow to love Tauriel in time. How could she not? 

His memory was jogged by the thought. "Was that my mam sitting next to the bed when I woke up?"

"Oh, yes." Tauriel seemed surprised to look around the room and see that Dís was no longer with them. "She must have left while we were talking."

"How is it that you and my mam are both in...where am I, anyway?" The last thing he remembered was the empty stone room where he'd been held, and the potions the healer gave him that carried him off into dreams of his beloved. Of late, the dreams had become muddled and confusing, and he wasn't sure where the line was between what he'd dreamed and what had really happened.

"Dale," Tauriel said, and proceeded to explain how they had come to be here. He heard the story of their trip to Dale in growing wonder. The fact that Tauriel and Bilbo had happened to be at Rivendell when Dís, Nori, and Bofur came to speak to Lord Elrond was so unlikely that he was sure that it must have been fated to occur that way. A thought occurred to him and he asked, "Why were you and Master Bilbo in Rivendell?"

"We traveled there to consult with Lord Elrond. He is known to be the greatest healer in Middle Earth."

"Why did you need a healer? Are you ill?" Concerned, Kíli put the back of his hand against Tauriel's forehead, but she felt the same as always: slightly cool to the touch. Elves seemed to run cooler than Dwarves--at least, that's what he had observed with Tauriel.

"I am not ill. Bilbo worries too much. He thought that I should see Lord Elrond in case there was any...difficulty with the babe."

Kíli felt a sudden jolt of alarm. "And is there?"

"No," she said, smiling at him reassuringly. "Lord Elrond's son, Elrohir consented to accompany us to Erebor, along with his brother, and he has been acting as my healer. He says that the babe is healthy."

"And you? You're healthy too?" Kíli pressed. She nodded reassuringly and lifted up on her elbow to give him what started out as a quick, light brush of lips. He wasn't sure which of them moved to lean into each other first but the kiss deepened into a slow, languorous slide of tongues and lips that left him breathless when they finally parted. 

He blinked his eyes open to see her smiling down at him with the softest expression in her eyes. "Tauriel..." he breathed.

A knock came at the door and Kíli cursed under his breath. He could have sworn that he felt Tauriel laughing at him, but it wasn't a physical sensation. It came from a part of him that seemed to be able to feel her emotions as clearly as if they were his own, though how that was possible he did not know.

Tauriel was sitting up on the edge of the bed holding Kíli's hand by the time that the door opened and one of Kíli's least favorite people walked in. Though Prince Legolas looked less sour today than usual, Kíli glowered at him just on principle. Following him was a dark-haired Elf who must be the son of Lord Elrond that Tauriel had mentioned. 

"I am greatly relieved to see that you have regained consciousness. I am Elrohir Elrondion," the dark-haired Elf said with a bow.

"Kíli, son of Víli, at your service." No one else seemed to realize that Kíli had never been officially introduced to Thranduil's son, but he certainly wasn't going to be the first to bring it up.

"May I examine you?" Elrohir asked. At Kíli's wary nod, he added, "Lady Tauriel, it will be easier for me to examine Prince Kíli if you are not in physical contact."

She squeezed his hand before standing up and moving away from the bed. It was alright though, because he could still feel her love and concern even though she wasn't physically touching him. It seemed strange that he could feel her, but maybe it was Elven magic, he thought. Tauriel had healed his leg, who knew what else she might be able to do?

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but all that Elrohir did was stand next to the bed with his eyes closed for a few moments before asking without opening his eyes, "Tauriel, could you move to the far end of the room?"

Kíli could feel her concern and curiosity even as she nodded calmly and moved to the wall opposite the bed.

Elrohir concentrated a little while longer before opening his eyes and saying, "I cannot separate out your energies well enough to examine Prince Kíli's _fae_ individually. It must be an effect of the _faelif_."

Kíli had no idea what that meant, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to look stupid in front of Prince Sour-Face.

"Would it help if I left the room?" Tauriel asked, though Kíli could feel her reluctance to suggest it.

Elrohir nodded. "That may help."

As she left the bedroom, Tauriel gave Kíli a quick smile and with it came a wave of affection that felt like she had kissed him. If that was Elven magic, he was all for it.

Elrohir stood by the bedside motionless as a statue for several minutes, a frown of concentration on his face. Kíli fidgeted as the silence stretched on and the feeling of Tauriel's warmth began to fade. 

"Is this going to take much longer? Because I could just take a nap or some..." His voice sounded hollow to himself, echoing strangely in his head as his vision began to darken and lose focus. He felt the oddest sensation, as if something within himself was stretching to keep contact with Tauriel, but then it lost its grip and snapped back to him.

He heard a voice calling his name faintly and then all he was aware of was silence and darkness.

***

"How are you, my dear?" Bilbo asked as he saw Tauriel exit the sick-room. She looked like she wasn't quite ready to deal with the entire group still sitting at the kitchen table, so with an ungainly wriggle Bilbo slid from his chair and went to meet her.

"I...I am not sure," she said, turning her head as if straining to hear through the heavy bedroom door.

"Come, walk with me. We can take a turn around that terribly charming little courtyard," he said, hoping to get a smile from her as she registered how inaccurate a name that was for the barren square of paving stones tucked away between the high walls of the manor.

She didn't seem to notice his attempt at humor, simply nodding and falling in next to him as he led the way to the door that led outside to the courtyard.

"Be sure not to let anyone see you out there. It's not safe," Bofur said.

Bilbo grunted and flapped a hand at him in acknowledgment, feeling ever so slightly annoyed by the well-meaning warning. Really, who was it that had spent weeks sneaking around the Elvenking's palace without being caught last autumn? Why, that's right--it had been Bilbo Baggins. He was hardly likely to lose all sense of caution and wander out into the streets of Dale now. Not without putting his ring on first, anyway.

"Is something wrong?" Bilbo asked her once the door had closed behind them.

Tauriel shook her head, seeming oddly distracted and not quite as joyous as Bilbo would have expected after being reunited with her love. "No, it is just--I thought that I heard someone say my name."

"I didn't hear anything."

"Just my imagination, I guess."

"Lady Dís said that Kíli had regained consciousness?"

"Yes, he did. Oh, Bilbo," she said, finally looking as happy as he would have expected, "I can never thank you enough for what you have done for me. Without you, I would never have found my way here. I might never have known that my Kíli still lived."

Bilbo coughed and pretended to concentrate on cleaning out his pipe. "No thanks needed, my dear girl. And really, I owe you just as much. Without you, I would have just moldered away in Bag End for the rest of my days with nothing to do but feud with my annoying relatives."

She was always beautiful, but her wide, true smile made her seem to glow as if lit from within. "Then we must simply agree that we shall owe each other equally for the rest of our days."

"I suppose that's fair." Tucking his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, he beamed up at her. So it was that he saw the exact moment that her expression shifted, her head cocking to the side as if she had heard something beyond the range of normal hearing. "What is it, Tauriel?"

"Can you not hear him? Kíli is calling for me."

Attempting to keep up with her long-legged gait, he trotted after her as she re-entered the kitchen and strode to the door of the sick-room. Tauriel opened the door and slipped inside without saying a word to the group still sitting at the kitchen table. Giving them an apologetic smile over his shoulder, Bilbo followed her.

Inside the scene seemed unchanged from his earlier visit, when he had brought Dís a fresh cup of tea during her vigil at Kíli's bedside. It took a moment for him to realize why that was wrong. Kíli was awake now, Tauriel had told him, and yet the dark-haired figure on the bed was just as still and silent as he had been before her arrival.

Tauriel sat down on the bed next to Kíli, cradling his face in her hands and calling his name. Bilbo was watching them closely and was absolutely certain that Kíli's eyes had fluttered open the moment that Tauriel had touched his skin. 

Leaning over him, Tauriel murmured to Kíli in Sindarin. Bilbo was honestly glad that his grasp of the language was only so-so because he had the feeling the words were not meant for anyone else's ears. Feeling awkward, he looked away from the couple and caught a glimpse of the bittersweet smile that slipped across Legolas's face before his face went carefully blank again.

"I'm fine, _gimlinh_ , I swear," Kíli protested. "It's nothing. I just grayed out for a moment."

"It was more than a moment." Grasping Kíli's hand tightly in hers, Tauriel turned her worried eyes to Elrohir. "What happened just now? What is wrong with Kíli?"

The Elf lord looked troubled. "I do not know. He seemed fine at first and then he collapsed suddenly. His energies are...strange."

"You knew that something was wrong," Legolas said to Tauriel. "You were already worried when you came in here. How did you know?"

She looked confused by the question. "I heard Kíli calling my name, of course."

"Tauriel," Legolas said carefully, "Kíli has said nothing since he collapsed. If you heard him calling your name, it was not with your ears."

"What do you mean? What else could she hear him with?" Bilbo asked.

"Their _faelif_ ," Elrohir said quietly. "She heard him through her soul."

"But I don't understand," Bilbo said. "Why would the _faelif_ cause Kíli to fall unconscious when Tauriel isn't in physical contact with him? I thought their soul-link was supposed to be a good thing."

Elrohir quirked an eyebrow at him in way that strongly reminded Bilbo of Lord Elrond. "But it is a good thing, Master Bilbo. In fact, I am convinced that the _faelif_ is the only reason Prince Kíli is still alive--not to mention, sane."

***

They were all gathered around the table in the kitchen again, packed so tightly together that they were jostling elbows just to take a sip of tea. At the moment, it was only Bilbo and Tauriel who were drinking tea; the Dwarves had moved on to ale and the other Elves appeared to drink only water. 

Bard's children had been sent home to their father despite their protests. Or to be more precise, Bain had protested; Sigrid had gone wordlessly after exchanging a long glance with Fíli. Bilbo could already tell there was trouble brewing there. Well, Dís had already dealt with an Elven daughter-in-law; perhaps a daughter of Men would not be as unwelcome as she might once have been?

Tauriel and Kíli had joined them in the kitchen against Elrohir's advice, Kíli saying breezily that he felt completely fine as long as he was in contact with Tauriel. They sat holding hands, since Tauriel had nixed Kíli's suggestion that the best way for them to keep in contact was for her to sit in his lap. It was with warm glow of satisfaction that Bilbo observed the tenderness with which they treated each other, as Kíli made more outrageous suggestions for how they could remain in constant contact and Tauriel shot them all down while smiling at him with her eyes. Bilbo had been absolutely sure that they loved each other, but though it might sound odd, it was a great relief to him to see that they also liked each other. 

His mother had impressed upon him as a young Hobbit that love could only take a couple so far; what lasted, she had told him, was friendship and mutual respect. ("How else do you think your father and I have stayed happily married for so many years, when all the Shire would say we're chalk and cheese? I love your father, Bilbo, but it's just as important that he's also my best friend.") In the weeks between the hug on the Carrock and the Company reaching the secret entrance to Erebor, Bilbo had dared to believe that he and Thorin might have found the magical combination that his mother had spoken of: love and friendship, equal and inseparable.

Shaking himself out of his wool-gathering, Bilbo chided himself for foolishness. This was no time to moon over what might have been. They had a rescue to plan.

"But how will we get into Erebor?" Dís asked. "We can hardly hope that the trick of smuggling us into the city in the back of a supply wagon will work with Dáin's men."

"Getting back into the mountain is the easy part," Fíli said. "We can sneak in using the secret passage that the Company used to enter the mountain."

"Surely that has been closed off by now, has it not?" Tauriel asked.

Nori set aside his pipe long enough to say, "None of the Company told Dáin about it. At first, it seemed unimportant with everything else that had happened. Then once we started developing suspicions of Dáin, it seemed a good idea to have an escape route, just in case."

"When we snuck out of Erebor, we took the secret passage from the royal apartments that connects to the main passage. The one that you told me and Kíli about, remember Mam?" Fíli asked.

Dís's face softened. "I'm impressed that you still remembered. I haven't told you those stories since you were a Dwarfling." Bilbo could well imagine that the idea of a secret passageway would have appealed to a young Dwarf's sense of adventure just as much as it would have to a Hobbit child. 

"But once we get into Erebor, what is our plan then?" Elladan asked. There was a general grumble of agreement.

Calmly, Fíli said, "We are going to capture Dáin."

Pandemonium broke out, the Dwarves shouting over each other as they argued whether or not the idea was madness. 

Fíli pounded his fist on the table and shouted, "Listen to me!" 

Once the noise died down, he continued, "What are our other options? Search the entire palace and the jails and hope that we can find Thorin before we are discovered? Now is the time for bold action, when they least expect it. There are enough of us now that I am certain that we can succeed in capturing Dáin if we use the secret passage to sneak into the royal apartments."

There was a pause as everyone mulled it over.

Dís shook her head, looking frustrated. "It will not work. The side passage that leads to the royal apartments seals behind you as you leave. It was a security measure so that outsiders could not use it to sneak into the royal chambers."

Fíli looked smug. "It will work. We wedged daggers into the frame of the secret door that leads to the royal apartments as we were leaving so that it couldn't close behind us."

"Well, they'd never expect us to sneak back in after we just escaped. I say we do it, unless anyone has a better idea," Kíli said.

No one did. 

"It has been a very long time, but I think that I still remember the floor plan of the royal apartments," Dís said.

Ori raised his hand. "I was sent up there a few times running messages, so I know where some of the guards are stationed."

"I know the general layout of the guard patrols," Tofa volunteered. Bilbo noticed Dís giving her a mistrustful look. He couldn't understand Dís's attitude; as she herself had admitted, the mercenary had worked for Dáin, but as Fíli had pointed out Tofa had helped to rescue Fíli and Kíli at great personal cost to herself. All things considered, Bilbo was inclined to trust her.

"Right, so what we need now is to find out exactly what's been going on in Erebor since we left, and for that we need someone who can gather the news from the scum of Dale." Standing up, Nori flashed a smile at the group, all sharp teeth and hard eyes. "I might be out late. Don't wait up."

"Be careful," Bilbo said.

"Why, Master Burglar, you should know by now that I am always careful." Nori winked at him.

The only possible reaction to that was an eye roll and an amused snort, though Bilbo had absolutely no doubt that despite (or perhaps as a result of) his profession, Nori was one of the most cautious members of the Company--cautious for a Dwarf, that is. 

"There's one thing that I really don't understand, though," Bilbo said later, after they had hashed over the plan so many times that the ale had run low and all the candles were beginning to gutter. "What is Skalgar's purpose in doing any of this?"

"Maybe he's just barking mad?" Ori suggested timidly.

Her hands clenched into fists, Dís snarled, "He's a foul creature of evil. I care not what his purpose is; I'll soon see him dead."

"You ask me, he's got to be after money or power." Bofur shrugged at them. "S'all anything's about, really."

"Yes, but--unless he actually _is_ barking mad, then he must have a plan, a goal in mind," Bilbo mused. "What could be the purpose of what he did to Kíli? What could Skalgar gain from separating someone's soul from his body?" 

Bilbo noticed that Kíli had gone still, his head bowed over his and Tauriel's entwined hands, and felt a moment of guilt for bringing it up at all.

Looking utterly exhausted, Fíli shook his head and sighed. "I wish I knew, Master Baggins. I wish I knew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> amrâlimê - my love  
> gimlinh - star-lady 
> 
> Sindarin:  
> meleth nín - my love  
> pîn elloth - little flower
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you to misscity for volunteering to do a pinch-hit beta of this chapter!


	21. The Path Through Shadow

Bilbo's sleep that night was troubled by dreams of wandering the ruined halls of Erebor, following the distant sound of Thorin's deep voice singing of dragons and ancient gold. 

The sound at times seemed tantalizingly close, and yet every corner he turned led to the same empty, desolate hallways strewn with broken stone and desiccated bodies. After walking for what felt like weeks, Bilbo found his way to the guard room where they had thought to take refuge from Smaug's wrath. 

The room was filled with dead bodies, just as it had been in real life, yet in the dream these bodies were all terribly familiar. No unknown Dwarves here; instead, the corpses were those of his friends, the Company he had traveled with halfway across Middle Earth. 

Bilbo's breath came in sobs as he rushed from body to body, checking desperately for signs of life but finding only death. With every new body he turned over he expected to find Thorin's body, marked by the terrible wounds that had been left by Azog's mace. But although he found the bodies of the rest of the Company--including, horribly, both Fíli and Kíli--he could not find Thorin anywhere.

The sound of fierce whispering woke him out of a light, restless slumber. Rolling over and blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Bilbo saw Ori and Fíli arguing near the doorway to one of the empty rooms where they had curled up to sleep on the dusty floor as best they could.

"What's the matter?" Dís demanded as she sat up. Somehow she still managed to look imperious and intimidating even with sleep-rumpled clothing and untidy hair.

"Nori hasn't come back." Ori was chewing on the ends of his braids again, a nervous habit that Bilbo had seen Dori scold him for any number of times. "He said he'd be out late, but it's morning now and he hasn't returned. Something must have happened. We have to find him."

"I'm sorry, Ori. We can't go out looking for Nori," Fíli said.

"What? Why not?"

"Your brother knows the criminal world better than anyone else among us," Fíli said gently but firmly. "If he's gotten himself into trouble then we would just make it worse blundering into things we don't understand. Nori is smart and he knows what he's doing. I'm sure he has everything under control."

"But what if he's in trouble?" Ori sounded almost on the verge of tears.

"Not to worry, lad," Bofur said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Nori's tougher than a mining pony and harder to kill than a Warg. He'll turn up soon, you'll see. And I've no doubt he'll be laughing at us for having been worried about him."

Looking anything but reassured, Ori sighed and muttered, "I guess you're right."

Using the supplies in the kitchen which had been left for them by Bard's children, they were able to throw together a hearty breakfast of porridge, bacon, and oatcakes. Bilbo groaned at the sight of the oatcakes, a staple of traveling with Dwarves of which he was heartily sick, but even he had to admit they became rather tasty with the addition of fresh butter and tart berry preserves.

A fresh pot of tea went quite a long way towards making Bilbo feel more charitable towards his fellow beings, despite his restless night. Tea really could cure almost every ill, just as his grandmothers Took and Baggins used to say, he mused as he nursed his second mug.

Raised voices from the other end of the table caught his attention.

"What do you mean, you're leaving us behind?" Kíli looked thunderous.

"Kíli, even you have to see that you're in no condition for a dangerous mission," Fíli said. "The only reason you're conscious right now because you and Tauriel are holding hands. What happens if the two of you get separated?"

"Aren't you the one who told Uncle Thorin that we belonged together? Are you going back on that now that you're almost King?"

It was a low blow. Fíli paled and then reddened with anger.

Before the brotherly quarrel could really get going, Tauriel interjected, "Kíli, your brother is right. We should stay in Dale." Despite her words, she looked torn. Bilbo knew how difficult she would find it to admit that she was a liability.

"What?" Kíli's eyes were wide with surprise and hurt.

Tauriel stood firm even in the face of the most effective puppy-dog eyes Bilbo had ever encountered (outside of certain of his Took and Brandybuck relations, of course.) "We would put the others in danger, tethered as we are," she said in a conciliatory tone. "I would not have that on my conscience. Would you?"

Kíli's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he slumped and said sullenly, "No, of course not." Bilbo could tell that Kíli was far from pleased with his brother's decision.

Fíli squared his shoulders and announced, "We will leave for Erebor tonight, as soon as it is fully dark."

***

It took Dís until the afternoon, when most of the group had scattered to the empty rooms of the servants' quarters in order to grab what sleep they could before that evening's venture into Erebor, to catch Tofa on her own. It seemed that the mercenary had somehow become Fíli's second-in-command, for Tofa had spent most of the morning hunched over a hand-drawn map of the royal apartments by his side, going over the details of the plan. 

At last she found a chance to catch the mercenary alone. Fíli had gone to make amends with his brother after their argument that morning, and Tofa had wandered on her own out into the courtyard. Dís slipped out the door behind her and found Tofa was standing with her face turned up to the weak sunlight that filtered down to the courtyard.

It was not often that Dís was at a loss for words, but she found herself unable to figure out how to begin a conversation with a woman whom she might or might not have known for a few months over half a century ago.

"You've been staring a hole in the side of my face all morning," Tofa said while Dís was still trying to decide what to say. The side of the mercenary's mouth curved up in a smile, though she continued to seemingly address her comments to the patch of pale blue sky above them. "I cannot tell if you are trying to remember where you've seen me before, or if you have already remembered and are now attempting to set me aflame with only the power of your gaze."

Dís crossed her arms. "And would I have a reason to set you on fire?"

"Perhaps." The mercenary looked sidelong at her, a smile teasing at the edges of her lips. "That entirely depends on whether or not you have forgiven me for what I did sixty-eight years ago."

So this was the same woman she had met on that long-ago journey to the Blue Mountains. What a strange path this world had taken them on, that she should encounter Tofa again after so many years, here in Erebor. She had thought when they parted so acrimoniously in Ered Luin that they would never see each other again.

Dís raised her chin, staring down her nose at her despite the fact that Tofa stood a handspan taller than her. "That depends on whether you are going to apologize for what you did."

Tofa turned to face her fully, spreading her hands out as if to show herself unarmed. "As I recall, I apologized to you right then and there. You are the one who refused to accept my apology."

"Because you would not admit that you were wrong to even think of it!" Dís had not meant to snap that quite so loudly. She hoped that the walls were too thick for anyone else to have noticed that they were arguing. The last thing she wanted was to have to try to explain to her sons what she and Tofa were fighting about.

"Ah. That." Tofa ran a hand over her finely braided hair, her eyes narrowing in thought. "It was wrong for me to attempt to kiss you without your permission, that I will admit."

Dís drew breath to speak but Tofa anticipated her response and added, "However, I will not say that wishing to kiss you was wrong."

"How could it not be wrong? I am a widow," Dís hissed.

"Aye, that I know." Tofa smiled at her with warm eyes as she added, "Your lads have grown up to be fine Dwarves."

It was like trying to argue with Thorin. No, it was _worse_ , for her brother could at least be baited into yelling back at her. Dís huffed a sigh and turned her back on the mercenary. "Let me know when you're willing to be reasonable."

Tofa's voice was low and sweet as honey as she answered, "If wanting to kiss you is unreasonable, my lady, then the truth is that no fiber of my being can be counted as entirely reasonable."

Though Dís would refuse to admit it even on pain of death, a treacherous shiver of warmth went through her at those words.

"Ugh! You are impossible!" Dís growled and stomped away, nearly catching one of the Elves with the courtyard door as she slammed it open on her way back into the servants' quarters. 

Ignoring the stares she was getting from the small group gathered around the kitchen table, she stormed into the smallest of the rooms they had claimed for sleeping quarters. Ori took one look at her and sprang to his feet, gathering his blankets in his arms while babbling apologies and promising to get out of her way immediately.

Once she calmed down, after spending some time pacing and growling to herself, Dís felt a little foolish for having allowed her temper to get the better of her. She had always striven to be the steady one, the one who kept control of her temper and held Thorin back from making any rash decisions. There was just something about Tofa that got under her skin.

There was a knock at the door. "Is it safe?" Fíli called.

Dís smiled, shaking her head fondly. "Yes, it is. Come in, my little gem."

"Mam," he whined as he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. She thought he seemed more pleased than embarrassed by the endearment, though.

"You know you will always be my little gem," she said as she pulled him into a hug. He grumbled a little, but returned her hug with bone-creaking force. "Have I told you yet how proud I am of you for managing to escape and rescue your little brother at the same time?"

"Maybe once or twice. I could stand to hear it some more," he mumbled into her shoulder.

She chuckled. "Well, then I will have to tell you a few dozen more times. I am proud of you, Fíli."

Eventually he pulled away from the hug, holding her at arms length and scrutinizing her as he asked, "Is everything well?"

"Considering that we are planning to infiltrate Erebor tonight in order to capture my cousin, who may or may not be in control of his own actions, in the hopes of finding that my brother still draws breath? I would have to say that no, not everything is well."

"Mam," he said with a chiding note in his voice. 

"What?"

"What did you and Tofa argue about? I can tell you two have some kind of history."

"What? How could your pet mercenary and I possibly have a history?"

He wasn't fooled by her attempt to deflect his question. "Mam, I know when you're holding a grudge against someone. You've got something against Tofa and it isn't just that she's a mercenary."

She was certain that Fíli had inherited that particular streak of calm stubbornness from his father's side of the family. Her family also tended toward stubbornness, true enough, but they tended to be louder about it.

"I will not speak of it. But I promise you that it is nothing that will affect our infiltration of Erebor." She raised a hand as he drew breath to argue. "I am still your mother, even if you are Crown Prince."

Fíli inclined his head. "All right, I won't question you any further on it. For now," he added.

She nodded her agreement easily enough. She was sure that the mercenary would leave after they took back Erebor, and take her flirtatious eyes and her smooth words with her. And then Dís would never have reason to encounter Tofa again. 

Which was for the best, obviously.

***

Elrohir blinked at the door that had nearly hit him in the face. Turning, he watched Princess Dís storming through the kitchen and into a room that appeared to have once been a pantry. Moments later, one of the younger Dwarves emerged from the room, clutching a blanket and looking worried.

Whatever was going on, Elrohir was certain the Dwarves wouldn't thank him for sticking his nose into it. He closed the door behind him much more gently than it had been opened and ventured into the courtyard. There he found Tofa, pacing with a look of frustration clear on her face.

Elrohir paused in the doorway and asked, "Would you prefer solitude?"

"What? No, it's fine. I was about to go try to get some sleep before tonight anyway." Despite her words, she lingered in the courtyard, seeming reluctant to go inside. Considering the look of fury on Dís's face as she had stormed past him, Elrohir found Tofa's hesitance entirely understandable.

"Well, we can certainly share the courtyard," Elrohir offered.

She appeared to find that amusing. "Sure. I'll stay in my corner and you'll stay in your corner, and we will be about as friendly as Dwarves and Elves in this part of the world ever appear to become."

"This part of the world?"

"The North. I'm from a more southerly region, if you couldn't tell."

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with the various Dwarven kingdoms."

She laughed at that, though he wasn't entirely sure why what he had said was amusing. "Well, there aren't too many of those left, anyway." After a pause, she asked in an entirely different tone, "So I understand that you're a half-Elf?"

"Peredhel," he corrected. "While I do carry the blood of Men, to say that I am half-Elven indicates a much smaller percentage of my ancestry is Elven than would be strictly accurate."

"Peredhel, then. You have the choice of the Half-Elven though, do you not? To live forever or choose the life of a mortal?"

"Yes, that is true," he admitted, trying not to show his discomfort. Their father's twin brother had chosen to live and die that way, but Elrohir could not understand why anyone would choose a mortal life over immortality. To willingly leave one's family and loved ones, knowing that the separation would be for all eternity...he could not imagine making that choice.

"What a choice," she murmured, though he could not tell her opinion of the matter from her tone. After a long pause, Tofa asked, "Think it's been long enough that Dís will have calmed down?"

Remembering the look of rage on Princess Dís's face, Elrohir winced. "I could not say," he temporized.

"You're right, I should give her more time. You would think that an old warrior like me would have learned patience by now, and yet..."

"It is difficult to be patient when a matter of the heart is in question," Elrohir agreed, thinking of Lindir with longing.

"Who said anything about a matter of the heart?" She looked away from his expression of disbelief. "Well, I suppose it was rather obvious. Probably to everybody inside, too."

Unable to think of a diplomatic reply to that, he stayed silent. 

Tofa heaved a sigh. "All right, I think I've waited long enough that Dís probably won't murder me on sight. The courtyard is yours," she said with an oddly courtly bow which Elrohir found himself responding to automatically.

Elladan joined him so quickly after Tofa's departure that Elrohir suspected his twin had been standing by the door impatiently waiting for her to leave.

"What on Arda were you and the Dwarven mercenary talking about for so long?" Elladan asked in Sindarin.

"Oh, life and death, patience, love...that sort of thing." 

"I see." Elladan looked like he did not believe a word of it, but he seemed to have more urgent matters on his mind. "What do you think of this foolish plan to enter Erebor? I have pledged them my aid, but to be honest I believe the plan to be doomed to failure."

"Perhaps it is, but they will not be dissuaded. You will go nevertheless?"

"I must do what I can to keep Tauriel's kin-by-marriage alive."

Elrohir nodded his understanding. "I will stay behind to watch over her and ensure that she is safe."

Elladan's eyes sharpened. "There is something you are not telling me. About Tauriel."

Of course he could not hide even his most nebulous fears from his twin, when it had to do with Tauriel. "I am not sure that it is anything at all." 

"Brother, tell me."

"I am worried about her soul-link with the Dwarf," Elrohir confessed. "The way that Prince Kíli's spirit seems to become unanchored when he is not in physical contact with Tauriel is concerning to me. I have been watching the flow of energies between their spirits and I am beginning to suspect that the link may be draining Tauriel's energy in order to keep her husband alive."

Elladan went very still. "Are you certain?" 

"I am certain of nothing, but the way that their souls interact with the link worries me. I do not know what to do."

"You must ask Grandmother for advice." His brother's eyes were steely. "We cannot ask Father. It would take weeks for a Raven to fly to Imladris and back."

Elrohir nodded, conceding the point. It was entirely possible that Tauriel did not have the weeks that it would take to get a message to their father. The fact that it would be extraordinarily difficult for either of them to contact their grandmother at this distance went without saying. 

"Go, brother," Elladan said. "I will watch over you."

Elrohir sat cross-legged on the cold flagstones and calmed his mind and body, falling into a deep trance with the speed of long practice. He imagined his consciousness in the form of a falcon, swift-winged and long-sighted, riding the winds higher and higher as he left the dirty, crowded city of Men behind. 

Long did he fly over the tall treetops of Mirkwood, seeking the distant flickering lights of Lothlorien in the spirit world. His wings were exhausted and his spirit flagging by the time that he crossed the wide, dark forest and the empty expanse of grasslands, finally reaching the familiar bright spirals of his grandmother's treetop city. 

He was not greeted by his grandmother's spirit at the outskirts of Lothlorien as he always had been before. Instead his falcon self had flown almost all the way to her treetop bower before he heard her warm, rich voice in his mind. 

_My little bird_ , Galadriel greeted him. She sounded tired and her mental voice was strangely faint. _Why have you flown so far, so fast?_

His strength was nearly spent, so instead of forming the thoughts into words Elrohir simply opened his mind completely to his grandmother's power.

There was a long pause as he hung suspended in space, his wings slowly beating the air in a way that would not have served to keep a real falcon aloft. When she spoke again, the concern in her mental voice was underlain with the soft, effervescent feeling of her amusement. _What have you and your brother gotten yourselves into this time?_

Had he been in his real body, Elrohir knew that his ear-tips would have been red with embarrassment.

He had the faint impression of her kissing his forehead. _Do not fret, my darling. I will send you aid. You are not alone._

_But what should we do until this aid arrives?_ he asked, but he was unsure if the question had gotten through to her. He was starting to lose his grip on the sending, the falcon's spirit form fading as his strength reached its limits. 

Before she could respond, his sending lost all cohesion and his spirit snapped back across hundreds of miles like a bowstring that had been released, landing in his body with a terrible jolt.

Elrohir sat up, gasping for air.

His brother crouched next to him, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Elrohir? Are you well?"

He rested his head in his hands, taking deep, steadying breaths until his heart stopped racing. Once he felt steadier, Elrohir rasped, "Grandmother says that she will send aid."

Elladan shook his head. "What aid? How? It would take weeks for anyone to reach us from Lothlorien."

"I do not know. She did not say."

"Well, did she say what we are to do in the meantime?"

Elrohir shrugged. "I shall attempt to ensure that the soul-link does not harm Tauriel irreparably, while you infiltrate an enemy citadel accompanied by a handful of Dwarves, a Hobbit, and King Thranduil's only son and heir, and try to keep them all alive and unharmed while facing an enemy of unknown origin and powers?" he suggested.

Elladan gave him a look that in their long-ago youth had presaged a painful knuckle to the head or an unexpected trip to the nearest mud puddle. "Very helpful, brother."

***

Night had fallen and the group that planned to sneak into Erebor had gathered in the kitchen of the old servants' quarters. 

Kíli and Fíli were holding a quiet, intense conversation in Khuzdul beside them as Bilbo made his farewells to Tauriel. The brothers had made up their argument that afternoon, to Bilbo's great relief. He hated the thought of them being at odds, particularly before one of them ventured into possible danger.

Trying to ignore the conversation being held next to them in a language they were both forbidden to learn (though in truth Bilbo did not know how they were expected _not_ to pick it up if the Dwarves persisted in speaking it right in front of them), he told Tauriel, "Don't worry about us, my dear. We'll be back before you know it."

She did not seem reassured. "Be careful, _mellon_. I very much dislike that I must send you into peril without me. You are too hasty to throw yourself into danger, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo chuckled. "That's a fine sentiment coming from you, my dear. Who is it that takes entirely too many chances, between the two of us?"

"I will concede only that we are equally reckless." 

"Between the two of us, I believe you won that competition when you decided to walk halfway across Middle Earth on your own."

"I have explained to you already that it seemed reasonable at the time," Tauriel said. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but he thought that her ear-tips might be turning red.

"Reasonable. _Elves_ ," Bilbo said, rolling his eyes at her.

She knelt carefully, her balance seeming thrown off by the combination of her pregnancy and the need to hold onto Kíli's hand. Still conversing with his brother in whispered Khuzdul, Kíli altered his grip automatically to help her maintain her balance. 

Tauriel reached out to hug Bilbo with her free arm. "No matter what happens with Thorin," she whispered, "remember that you are important to all of us. And I will have words for the King Under the Mountain if he mistreats you in any way."

Bilbo harrumphed to cover the fact that his eyes might, just possibly, be a bit damp. He made a show of straightening his waistcoat once they parted. "Well then. You just concentrate on resting and keeping that foolish boy of yours from charging off after us."

"Oi! I'll admit to "foolish" but not to "boy"," Kíli protested, grinning hugely. Despite the difference in their heights, he barely even shifted on his feet as Tauriel used him as a counterweight to balance herself as she regained her feet. Sobering, he told Bilbo, "When you see Uncle Thorin, you can tell him that his fool of a nephew says that he's a greater idiot than I'll ever be if he doesn't throw himself to his knees and beg you for your forgiveness."

"Ah. Well. We shall see what we see once we get in there," Bilbo said, clearing his throat. To his further embarrassment, Kíli insisted on hugging him before he would allow him to join the rest of the group.

With a flurry of best wishes, they were on their way.

During their escape from Erebor, Fíli's group had picked up two spare sets of guard armor in addition to the armor that Tofa had been wearing when she defected from Skalgar's service. Tofa wore her own armor, of course. Fíli put on one of the spare sets, commenting that he already knew it fit, and Dís put on the other set with a look on her face so fierce that not even her son dared to object. Considering that the only other Dwarven options were Bofur and Ori, neither of which were particularly good at subterfuge, Bilbo had to agree that Dís was the best choice.

The three of them plus Bilbo would have to be the advance guard, so to speak, since they would be much less likely to be spotted as intruders while wearing the guard armor. The remainder of the group, which consisted of Ori, Bofur, Elladan, and Legolas, would follow behind as soon as they knew the way was clear.

Eight warriors (Bilbo supposed he had to consider himself a warrior after all that he had experienced) sneaking into the heart of an enemy stronghold in an attempt to capture its king. This was perhaps the most ill-advised plan Bilbo had ever been part of, and that included the one where he was supposed to somehow steal a gem from underneath a sleeping dragon's nose. Despite the peril of the situation, Bilbo almost chuckled to himself at the realization that here he was, preparing to steal a Dwarven King. So much for his claims of not being a burglar.

He tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, making sure that his ring was still where it was supposed to be. The cool, heavy weight of it settled his worried mind immediately.

They took a route out of Dale which had been quietly cleared of all sign of guards or watchmen. Bard might not be willing to openly support them, but he had done as much as he could to aid their cause indirectly. From the small postern-gate which they used to exit the city, it was a quick dash across open ground to the cover of the rough brush that characterized the lands that had been scarred by Smaug. Then it was simply a matter of climbing up a steep, rocky slope in the dark, while avoiding patrols, and finding their way to the secret door.

The combination of Elven and Dwarven abilities turned out to be crucial for the success of this endeavor. The Dwarves had astonishingly keen night-vision and the Elves, though not nearly as well-adapted for operating in darkness, had extremely acute hearing. Once the Dwarves and Elves stopped bristling at each other and started to work together, the climb up the slope to the secret door was easily and safely accomplished.

Fíli and his group had left the secret door propped open by a rock when they escaped from Erebor. Silently, they slipped through the door into the musty secret passage for the second time in Bilbo's life. He would have been happier never entering it again.

Fíli made to shove the rock out of the way of the door closing so that it would seal behind them.

"No, wait!" Ori exclaimed. "We have to leave that open so that Nori can follow us!"

Bilbo could tell from the look on Fíli's face that he did not think Nori would be following them, but didn't want to tell Ori that.

"I agree that we should leave it open," Dís said. "If aught goes terribly awry in Dale, Kíli might think to flee to hiding in Erebor by way of the secret passage."

That decided, they continued down the corridor to the second secret door. During their escape, Fíli and Tofa had wedged it open with a dagger in the hinges. They left it in place to keep the door from closing behind them. Bilbo's legs ached by the time they climbed up the seemingly endless stairs to reach the level of the royal apartments.

Elladan crouched by the door which sealed the end of the secret passage for several minutes, listening for any movement outside. At last he gave a nod and Fíli slowly opened the door.

There was no immediate outcry from the corridor. Fíli dared to poke his head through the opening and look up and down the corridor. He made a hand signal that Tofa translated for the non-Dwarves as, "It's clear."

They slipped out of the hidden door, letting it swing closed behind them. Fíli and Dís had explained the sequence of stars which needed to be pressed to open the door again, since they could not risk leaving it cracked open as they had with the outer two.

Dís took the lead, since she out of all of them had the best idea of the layout of the royal apartments. She led them down a narrow hallway whose entrance had been partly hidden by a carved column, which to Bilbo's eyes looked like it might have been a passage used by servants. At the end of the hallway she gestured for the rest of the group to wait there, partially hidden by another pillar from casual view, while Fíli, Dís, Tofa, and Bilbo proceeded cautiously around the corner.

The royal apartments were a large, opulently decorated warren of interconnected rooms, in which the royal family would normally live and the informal business of governing would be done by the king and his closest advisers. They knew that Dáin's son had been left behind to govern the Iron Hills in his absence, so the only person likely to be living in the apartments other than Dáin would be Skalgar.

Earlier, they had discussed the most likely rooms where they might find Dáin at this hour of the night. The most likely seemed either the room that Thrain had used as a study, the Council chamber, or the royal bedchamber itself. After some debate, they had agreed to check the bedchamber first.

They had anticipated that the bedchamber might be guarded, but no guards stood outside its gold-encrusted double doors. "Time for your Hobbit magic," Fíli said in a barely-audible murmur. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, slid his hands into his waistcoat pockets, and slipped his ring on as subtly as he could. Immediately he was surrounded by the grey, strangely blurry world that he saw whenever he put on his ring. 

He had the fleeting thought that it might be hard to explain if anyone whom he had convinced of his spurious "Hobbit magic" ever encountered another Hobbit and expected them to be capable of turning invisible. But he supposed that was a problem for a later time...if they made it out of this situation with their lives intact.

Bilbo carefully opened the door just far enough to slip inside, feeling terribly exposed despite his invisibility. The room was lit only by a single oil lamp, the wick turned low and the room huge and shadowy. He felt his way around the room, expecting at every moment to knock something over and bring the guards running. 

Bilbo just barely managed to hold back an exclamation of surprise as his foot ran into something large and solid lying hidden in the shadows. He bent closer to see what it was and found that there was a Dwarf in the armor of Dáin's guards lying sprawled out on the floor with his eyes closed. The Dwarf had not stirred even though Bilbo knew that he must have kicked him rather hard while tripping over him.

Bilbo must have let some noise escape then, because a moment later the door to the royal bedroom opened and the rest of the group slipped inside, weapons drawn.

"Bilbo, are you alright?" Bofur hissed. 

"Yes, yes, but I don't think this fellow is. Is he...dead?"

Elladan knelt by the body, holding his hands about six inches above the Dwarf's chest and closing his eyes in concentration. Bilbo held his breath.

There was a grim look in the Elf's eyes as he looked up at them. "The Dwarf is still alive, but I do not know how much longer he will be. His _fae_ has been completely severed from his body."

"This is what they tried to do to my son, isn't it?" Dís shook her head in horror. 

"I believe so, yes," Elladan said. "I suspect that this is what would have happened to Prince Kíli without the _faelif_ that kept his spirit tethered to this plane of existence. This Dwarf's body is a hollow shell. Without a _fae_ , he will wither and die within days."

Kneeling by the body, Fíli gestured Tofa over. "Isn't this the guard who was posted outside Kíli's door?"

Bilbo could tell the moment she recognized the guard from the look of guilt and nausea that crossed her face. "Yes, he is. We used to play cards together. I knew that he would be punished for letting us walk out with Kíli, but I didn't think..." Looking up at Elladan, she asked, "Is there nothing that can be done for him?" 

"This is beyond my ability." Standing, the Elf lord added slowly, "I am not sure even my father could heal this. There is something more at work here than a simple potion would explain."

"How could Skalgar have the power to do this?" Fíli asked. "Who is he?"

"I think," Bilbo said, "that the question we really should be asking at this point is: _what_ is he?"

***

The door to the servants' quarters closed behind the departing group of Elves, Dwarves, and one Hobbit. It seemed very quiet suddenly with just the three of them.

Elrohir bowed politely before excusing himself, saying that he needed to meditate. Tauriel appreciated his discretion, for it felt like it had been a very long time since she had been alone with her beloved.

They leaned their foreheads together in the Dwarven fashion and stood there for a few minutes, breathing each other's air. At last, Kíli heaved a sigh and said, "I hate being left behind."

Tauriel felt a surge of tenderness for him. "I know. So do I, _meleth nín_."

He darted in for a quick kiss as they parted. "You have something you want to show me, don't you."

"Yes, I do. How did you guess?" Tauriel asked as she tugged on their joined hands, pulling him towards the chairs at the kitchen table. 

He grinned. "I read your mind."

She rolled her eyes at his little joke. "I do have something to show you. I asked your mother about marriage customs among your people."

"And she actually told you something? She really does like you." Kíli detoured them from the kitchen chairs to the rug in front of the fireplace, helping her to balance herself as she sat down so smoothly that it was as if they had done it a thousand times before. They settled on the rug sitting crosslegged with their knees pressed together, their joined hands resting on Tauriel's knee.

"I hope that she does. She does not appear to hate me, at any rate." Tauriel felt a twinge of apprehension as she slid her fingers into one of her belt pouches, feeling for the textured surface of a carved bead. She had never carved anything before, and she worried that her effort would seem crude and amateurish to a Dwarf.

"I'm sure it's perfect," Kíli said, stroking his free hand over her hair. His fingers found the braid that started at her temple and traced it delicately down to where it was clasped at the end by his marriage bead.

"How did you know that I--ah, here it is," Tauriel said, distracted from her question by locating the bead at the bottom of the pouch. "I hope that it is acceptable. Your mother explained to me what the symbols were meant to indicate and showed me how to carve it."

She held out her hand flat, the small green stone bead lying in the center of her palm. Kíli picked it up with surprising delicacy of touch, bringing it closer and turning it over so that he could see the carvings. "Oh, _gimlinh_ ," he whispered.

"Is it alright?" she asked, biting her lip.

A wide, beaming smile spread across Kíli's face. "Alright? It's perfect." He leaned in and they kissed softly, their lips barely parting as he whispered, "Absolutely perfect. Braid it in?"

Tauriel paused for a moment as she realized that she needed both of her hands to braid. He chuckled and let go of her hand, resting his left hand on her knee to keep the physical contact that they needed in order for him to maintain consciousness. 

As she began braiding a strand of hair in front of his ear, Kíli held the bead in his right hand, turning it over to examine it from all angles. "What do the symbols that you chose mean?"

"The holly leaf is to symbolize my clan and the oak leaf is for the forest of my birth. And on the other side, a bow and an arrow below a star, that is what I chose as my personal symbol. I know you said that it was fine that I did not have a bead to put in your hair, but after seeing how important it was to your mother I knew that it was more significant than I had realized." She finished the braid and took the bead from his hand to fasten the end, fumbling a little until she figured out how to set it securely so that it would not fall out.

Kíli touched the bead at the end of his braid with an expression of wonder. " _Amrâlimê_ ," he whispered, carding his fingers through her hair and cradling her face as he leaned in to kiss her. Tauriel's eyes fluttered closed as they kissed tenderly, with a slowly building passion that left her feeling warm and breathless.

The kitchen door swung open near-soundlessly. They sprang apart and turned to see Nori slipping through the doorway and pulling the door closed behind him.

"Where's Princess Dís?" Nori demanded. His hair was out of its familiar three-peaked style, divided simply into three braids and treated with something that had left it a dull, dark brown.

"They have all gone to Erebor," Tauriel answered.

"And you two lovebirds are the only ones left? Bollocks." 

"No, Lord Elrohir stayed behind as well."

The grimace on Nori's face communicated very clearly what he thought of that. "How long ago did they leave?"

"Must be close to an hour by now. What's wrong, Nori?" Kíli asked.

"The Company has been thrown into jail, that's what's wrong." 

"What? How could that happen?"

"Your delightful cousin Dáin, that's how." Nori started pacing with quick, frustrated-looking movements. "I got into Erebor--yes, I lied about investigating in Dale, I'm sure your mother will rake me over the coals for that later--and I managed to make contact with a few individuals I know who make a living by ferreting out all the things that others want to keep secret. That's how I got the news that the remaining members of the Company were arrested yesterday on suspicion of treason."

"Treason!" Kíli exclaimed. "How could Dáin get away with that?"

"He's the King. At least, he's the King for now," Nori muttered darkly, fingering the hilt of his only visible knife. (Tauriel had learned during their travels that the thief always had several other knives secreted in his clothing.) "My contact says that they're to be executed at dawn."

"What?" Tauriel gasped. "Executed?" She felt sick at the very thought.

"We have to rescue them." Kíli rose to his feet and extended a hand for her to balance as she stood.

"You're damned right we do," Nori growled.

After the situation was quickly explained to Elrohir, they gathered around the kitchen table to plan.

"I know where they're being held and I can get us to them without attracting the guards' notice," Nori said. "Once we find the Company, we're going to have to break them out and flee from Erebor through the hidden passage."

"And how are we going to get in?" Kíli asked. "I don't suppose the prison is easy to get to from the royal apartments or the treasury, which are the two places we know the secret passage leads."

"Ah, but those _aren't_ the only places the secret passage leads. While Thorin was distracted by counting his gold, searching for the missing Arkenstone, and mooning over the Hobbit, I took some time on my own to explore. I can get us within shouting distance of the jail."

"I'm beginning to wonder just how many secret passageways my great-grandfather had built," Kíli said. "It seems like the entire mountain is riddled with them."

"There's only a handful that I've found. So far," Nori added with a wink.

"Oh, that's very reassuring."

"Then our path is clear," Tauriel said. "We must depart for Erebor at once, before the guards that Bard sent away return to their posts."

"Agreed," Elrohir said.

Pointing at Kíli, Nori demanded, "Are you going to fall over the minute you two lovebirds stop holding hands?"

"We seem to have about five minutes of leeway," Tauriel answered after a worried look at Kíli. "More or less."

"Don't worry, _gimlinh_ ," he murmured to her. "We'll be fine if we stick together. I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Nori made a quiet gagging noise. They both ignored him.

"I shall make sure that nothing happens to _you_ ," Tauriel told Kíli firmly.

Nori rolled his eyes. "And I'll make sure that nothing happens to _me_. Right, then," he added with patently fake enthusiasm, "let's go save the Company before Princess Dís murders me for bringing the two of you into danger!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> amrâlimê - my love  
> gimlinh - star lady
> 
> Sindarin:  
> fae - soul  
> faelif - soul-link  
> meleth nín - my love


	22. Raveling the Labyrinth

The prisoner dreamed.

In his dream, he knew that his name was Thorin and that he was terribly wounded, perhaps dying. He felt at peace with joining his ancestors, though, for he had apologized to the one he had wronged so terribly and Bilbo had accepted his apology and sworn his forgiveness, though that was much more than Thorin deserved.

Knowing that he was on the verge of losing consciousness and that he might not wake again, Thorin had allowed himself to be utterly selfish one final time. Summoning up the last of his failing energy, he had said the final words of the wedding oath to Bilbo. Though he knew his beloved had no way to understand the Khuzdul words, he had felt a great swell of joy in his heart as Bilbo had spoken the words in return. He would doubtlessly be furious if he ever figured out what Thorin had done, but at least he could go to his ancestors with the knowledge that he had finally honored his beloved as Bilbo deserved.

Thorin floated in and out of consciousness as he was carried on a litter down long, dusty corridors. The Dwarves around him were not ones he recognized, but they spoke with the accents of the Iron Hills and so he could only assume that they were his cousin Dáin's men. He caught a few words here and there and pieced together that he was being brought to the sacred cave that lay at the heart of every Dwarf-carved mountain. Sometimes, legend said, Dwarves could be brought back from the brink of death if they were returned to the stone of Mahal's Chamber and Mahal judged them worthy.

It was only now that Thorin learned that his sister-sons had fallen defending him from Azog's wrath.

_Oh Dís, little sister, I am so sorry that I have failed you,_ he thought. The guilt that through his foolish actions he had led Fíli and Kíli to their deaths felt like a heavy stone pressing all of the air out of him. He had promised Dís that he would keep her sons safe. He had failed in that, as he had failed in almost everything.

Bilbo was alive, though--alive and unharmed, no thanks to Thorin. Despite the words of forgiveness that his beloved had spoken, Thorin knew that he would carry the guilt for what he had said and done to Bilbo to his grave. Which would surely be a short trip from here, he thought with a weak attempt at gallows humor.

The flash of agony that he felt as the litter-bearers lowered him to the floor of the cave almost broke Thorin's grip on consciousness, but through an act of sheer will he staved off the threatening darkness. If Mahal came to them as the legends said that he might, Thorin knew he had only one course of action: to beg for mercy for his sister-sons' lives, in exchange for his own.

The dream skipped forward then, leaving him with no knowledge of what, if anything, had occurred in the long hours between the litter bearers leaving them in the utter darkness of the cave and the moment that Thorin opened his eyes to see a healer that he did not recognize leaning over him.

"He is alive, my lord."

Thorin wanted to ask the healer why he sounded so disappointed by that fact, but his throat was so dry that all he could produce when he opened his mouth was a weak rasping noise.

"Cousin! You're alive!" Shouldering the healer aside, Dáin beamed down at Thorin. "I knew you couldn't be dead, you big faker!"

Thorin tried speaking again but only managed to start coughing, the motion sending such jagged bolts of pain through him that he almost passed out again. He might not be on the verge of dying anymore, but he was not fully healed either.

"Don't fret, Dís's lads made it through too. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen them draw breath myself. Mahal must not have been ready for you three troublemakers to invade his Halls!" Dáin chuckled at his own joke.

"My lord, I am sorry to tell you that it is as I had feared. All three of them are suffering from the gold-sickness," the healer said.

No, that was wrong--Thorin knew in his heart that Fíli and Kíli had never been gold-sick. He tried to explain, but he could not make a sound without going into spasms of coughing so agonizing that he suspected Azog's mace must have broken some of his ribs.

"Ach, that is grim news indeed. It pains me to admit it, but the last thing we need is another repeat of Thrór's reign," Dáin mused wearily. Orc blood from the battle was still crusted on his armor and clumped in his hair. He was leaning on the handle of his warhammer as if he needed its help to remain on his feet.

"Might I suggest that it might be better for everyone if Thorin Oakenshield and his sister-sons remained dead?"

Dáin's hands flexed ominously on the handle of his warhammer. "I trust that you did not mean that the way it sounded."

"My lord, I apologize if I spoke poorly," the healer said. Thorin noticed him fiddling with something behind his back. Then a scent filled the air, sickly sweet but with an undertone so bitter that he almost gagged. "I simply meant that it might be better if they were _presumed_ dead until I am able to cure their gold-sickness. Would that not be preferable to yet another gold-mad king sitting on the throne of Erebor?"

Thorin was beginning to feel unbearably drowsy. It was becoming a struggle for him to remain conscious, but he persevered, certain that Dáin's reaction to the worm's treacherous words would be memorably profane.

To his shock, instead his cousin paused for several long moments before saying so slowly that the words seemed near to choking him as they left his mouth, "Perhaps you are right, Skalgar."

Thorin's last sight before losing his battle to remain awake was the smug, unctuous smile on the so-called healer's face.

***

The prisoner awoke--no, not "the prisoner." _Thorin_. His name was Thorin.

Though his memories of the dream were fading by the second, he clung to the memory of his own name. He might have nothing else, but at least he had that.

Weeks had passed since Thorin had overheard the conversation between his guards about the jailbreak, but he was no closer to finding a way to escape. Spurred into action by the nebulous possibility of escape, he had worked himself to exhaustion every night attempting to strengthen his atrophied muscles. Though it had been difficult and frustrating, he could tell that his efforts were beginning to have an effect. Walking around his cell was no longer an effort, but as his health improved, his feelings of boredom and frustration grew. 

He eavesdropped whenever his guards spoke outside his door. Unfortunately, they rarely said anything useful. They mainly filled the long hours standing watch over a locked door by discussing card games and gossiping about their fellow guards. There were a few things he picked up from those conversations: the kingdom was called Erebor and it was ruled by a king named Dáin. The guards were afraid of someone they referred to as "the healer," or much more rarely as Skalgar.

Thorin turned the names over and over in his mind, hoping that they would somehow make him remember. There was nothing, though--no spark of recognition.

He did not have a silvered glass by which to see his reflection and so he learned his own features by feel. He discovered that he had a gaunt, narrow face with a beaky nose. His hair was black with scattered strands of silver. His beard was so short that surely he must have sheared it off from grief or shame in the very recent past. The tattoos on his arms and chest and his numerous scars told him that he was a warrior who had been through many battles. 

He had a feeling that the recurring symbol of a raven in the tattoos was significant. Perhaps the raven was the symbol of his house, which might mean that he was of noble birth. The idea felt right for some reason, but he had no memories which would prove it one way or the other. He had no idea why it was that he knew trivial things, such as the possible meaning of his tattoos, but nothing about his own past.

All that he had besides his name were scattered scraps of memories, impossible to understand without context. He remembered: _Two Dwarflings, one dark-haired and one blond, laughing while wearing matching expressions of mischief on their dirt-smudged faces._ Could they be his children? _A worn and yellowed map spread out on a wooden table._ The map must be significant, but a map to where? _A mountain looming against the sky, steep-sloped and crowned in snow. A sword with Elven script running along its blade. An acorn held in a faintly trembling hand._

Again and again in those scraps of memories he saw the same man, usually from an angle which made it clear that the man had been observed without his knowledge. He had curly, light brown hair above sharp hazel eyes and an expressive face. He was smaller than a Dwarf with Elf-like pointed ears, but he was certainly no Elf, not with those big furry feet. 

Why were so many of his memories about this small, fussy-looking creature? What was he to Thorin, and what was Thorin to him?

He had plenty of time to ponder these questions, for other than the food that was passed through the slot at the bottom of his door at regular intervals, there was nothing at all that interrupted the monotony of his imprisonment. The days blurred together in an unchanging haze until a day came when three guards opened his cell door and ordered him out. 

Even after having spent time strengthening his body, he was aware that he stood no chance against three large, armed guards, so he offered them no resistance. He kept his head down and his eyes open, looking for a chance to escape. But the guards were alert and he knew that his reflexes were slowed from captivity, and besides, he had no idea where he was. He had assumed that he was being kept in a prison, and yet the corridors they brought him down were finely and lavishly decorated. This was no jail; if anything, this was a palatial residence. 

"Skalgar wants him taken to the Council Chamber, yeah?" one of the guards asked of the guard who seemed to be in charge.

"We're to bring him to the observers' gallery above the Council Chamber. Guess there's something Skalgar wants him to observe." The others laughed as if the guard had said something very clever. "Now shut--" 

A surprised look came over the guard's face as he stared down at the tip of the sword that had sprouted, seemingly magically, from his chest. 

The first guard slumped to the ground, bleeding. The other two guards barely had time to draw their swords before they were set upon by three Dwarves who were wearing the same armor as the guards. The newcomers made short work of the remaining two guards, cutting them down before they could even shout an alarm.

Hoping that this was a rescue and not, for example, a palace coup where a prisoner such as himself might be as likely to be killed as to be let free, Thorin held his bound hands up in front of him in a non-threatening manner. "I am unarmed!" 

One of the newcomers made a gut-punched noise, her swordpoint dipping to the floor as she stared at him in what appeared to be a state of shock. "Thorin?"

"You know who I am?"

***

Dwalin was generally a pessimistic soul. Oh, he tried to not expect the worst of everyone all the time, but his negativity was so often proven correct that it was hard to expect anything else. 

He hadn't been surprised when Nori volunteered to go retrieve Dís from Ered Luin. To be fair, he did believe that the thief would go warn Dís, but as far as returning? No, Dwalin fully expected that by now Nori was living large in the Blue Mountains, safely clear of the mess in Erebor.

Honestly though, in this case he hadn't been disappointed by the thought of Nori living down to his expectations. Dwalin was a pessimist, but under his prickly exterior beat the heart of a true romantic. He had been fool enough to fall in love with a thief, yes, but at least Nori's vocation had given him a strong sense of self-preservation. Nori was safe, and so Dwalin could go to the headsman's axe with that thought to sustain him.

Or at least, that was what he thought until the moment that Nori poked his head around the edge of his cell door in Erebor.

"Oh good, I was worried we'd have to search another couple of floors," the thief said calmly, as if he hadn't just appeared out of nowhere when he was supposed to be halfway across Middle Earth from here.

Dwalin crossed the cell in two strides and gripped the bars of his cell with white-knuckled hands. "Nori? What are you doing here?"

Nori gave him a look that clearly said he doubted Dwalin's intelligence. "Springing you. What the bloody hell else would I be doing here?"

"You shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be in Ered Luin."

The thief slid a set of lock picking tools out of his sleeve and started working on unlocking the cell door. "Well, I do so hate to disappoint you, but I've been to Ered Luin and back already." His eyes narrowed. "You thought I'd scarper, didn't you? That I'd just leave you--the Company and my brothers on your own and run to safety."

"That's not what I--"

"So sorry to disappoint you," Nori said as the lock made a decisive clicking noise and sprang open. "But here I am, and here you are, and also Prince Kíli and his pregnant Elven wife, and no I'm not explaining that one."

"What?" Dwalin stepped through the open cell door and stared at Nori.

"What part of "I'm not explaining that" was unclear?"

Dwalin took a deep breath through his nose. Miraculous return or not, even though he was stupidly in love with the thief it had still taken Nori less than five minutes to get on every single one of his nerves. Mahal was surely laughing at him. "Fine. I will not ask about that. Can I ask what the plan is now that you've sprung us?"

Nori's eyes cut to the side. "Ah. Yes. The plan."

"There is no plan, is there?" Dwalin sighed.

Nori made a disgusted-sounding noise. "I had a plan, all right. _My_ plan was to rescue you lot and then flee from Erebor before Princess Dís kills me for bringing Kíli into danger when he's only just gotten over being mostly dead, and that's not even to mention the part where I brought along Kíli's very pregnant wife. Really, I'll be lucky if all Dís does is kill me. However, the others have a different plan and sadly, since I am apparently the only sane one along on this venture, I have been outvoted."

"You want to explain that again in a way that makes a lick of sense?"

"The plan is, we're going to go capture Dáin." Nori jerked his chin up, smiled at him while showing every single one of his teeth, and swaggered away.

" _What_?"

The thief flapped a hand at him, not breaking stride. "Don't blame me, it's not my plan."

Dwalin hurried to keep up with Nori, noting as he did the bodies of a few guards lying sprawled on the corridor floor. 

After turning a couple of corners, he spotted Kíli, his red-haired Elven guard captain, and another dark-haired Elf whom Dwalin didn't recognize. They stood with Bombur, Bifur, and Dori outside of a cell which proved to contain Balin, Óin, and Glóin. Nori knelt before the lock and started working on unlocking it.

"Mister Dwalin!" Kíli grinned at him, bouncing like a puppy and towing along his Elf by the hand. Dwalin's eyes passed over her dismissively at first, then he stopped and stared at her, remembering belatedly what Nori had said. Pregnant. Yes, she definitely was that. 

He tried to picture Dís's reaction to the news. On the one hand, Elven daughter-in-law; on the other hand, her first grandchild. Mahal fucking wept, he couldn't even imagine. And he absolutely refused to try to imagine Thorin's reaction. 

Then his brain caught up to the fact that Kíli was here and not _dead_. Dwalin took a long stride over to Kíli and caught him up in a hug. "It's good to see you, lad."

"It's good to see you too," Kíli said, muffled into his shoulder.

"Your brother? Thorin?"

"Fíli is alive. Thorin...we're not sure yet. Dáin--or Dáin's pet healer--has been holding him prisoner too, we think. We hope."

Nori finished picking the lock on the door and Balin, Glóin, and Óin piled out of the cell, grumbling (Glóin), complaining loudly (Óin), or smiling as if this had been his plan all along (Balin, of course).

"Brother!" Dwalin felt much better after knocking foreheads with Balin. There was no problem dire enough that he and his brother could not face it together, he was sure.

A flurry of questions from the newly freed prisoners established that Nori and Bofur had returned from Ered Luin with Dís, and that they had somehow picked up both of Lord Elrond's sons and Thranduil's son along the way. Dwalin decided to blame Kíli's Elf for all of these other Elves sticking their noses into a purely Dwarven matter.

Kíli's announcement that they planned to join Fíli, Dís, Ori, and Bofur in rescuing Thorin met with a general shout of approval. Nori rolled his eyes and shook his head at Dwalin as if to say, "You see what I'm dealing with here?" Dwalin snorted at him.

After looting weapons off the bodies of dead guardsmen, they quickly found their way back to the entrance to the secret passage. They followed its twisting, turning path back to the main secret passage, through a door that had been hidden when they came through the passageway the first time, and into a tunnel that exited, Nori told them, into the royal apartments.

"I had no idea this was here." Balin sounded deeply disapproving of that fact.

"Mam said that our great-grandfather had these built," Kíli said. 

"Where do we go once we're in the royal apartments?" Dwalin asked.

Looking sheepish, Kíli scratched his chin. "You know, I'm not actually sure."

Not for the first time, Dwalin considered whether he might have been better off becoming a sell-sword and letting the line of Durin fend for itself.

In the end, they decided to try the royal bedchambers first. If they did not find anyone there, then they would try the Council Room. 

Years later, Dwalin would still find himself breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of what might have happened if they hadn't gotten lost on the way to the royal bedchambers and ended up finding the Council Room instead.

***

"What are you talking about? Of course I know you." The woman took off her helmet, revealing silver-traced black hair, blue eyes and a narrow, long-nosed face. "It's me, Dís. Your sister."

Based on what he had discovered of his own face, Thorin thought that there might be a resemblance between them. However, to his disappointment there was no spark of recognition upon seeing her. "I'm sorry. I don't remember you, or anything really."

Another of the newcomers, this one a young-looking Dwarf with blond hair and blue eyes, took off his helmet and asked, "You don't remember anything at all?"

Thorin shook his head. "Just flashes of faces and objects, random places, nothing with any context. I remember a little boy with blond hair, though. Was that you?"

"Yes, that was me. I'm Fíli, your sister-son," he said before hesitating for a moment and then stepping forward. Thorin stiffened at the thought that this stranger he was supposedly related to might hug him. Instead, the blond put his hand on Thorin's shoulder and squeezed while beaming up at him. "It is a great relief to see you, Uncle Thorin."

He coughed uncomfortably. "Ah. Thank you." 

"Thorin..." Dís reached out a hand to him and then hesitated and dropped it, looking heartbroken.

They were quickly joined by two Dwarves dressed in civilian garb and, bizarrely enough, two Elves. Everyone was staring at Thorin and it made him feel frankly uncomfortable. He didn't know how to behave around these strangers who were supposedly his friends and family (though he was a little unsure how the Elves fit into that). His head was spinning by the time they were all introduced to him and he had little faith that he could manage to remember all of their names.

The female Dwarf who had not yet spoken cleared her throat. "Loath though I am to disturb your reunion after so long a separation, I must point out that the guards said they were bringing him to witness something involving Skalgar."

"Tofa is right. The guards said something about bringing Uncle Thorin to the observers' gallery above the Council Room. We should take this opportunity to find out what Skalgar is doing," Fíli said.

She nodded. "If the three of us who are in guard armor pretend to be escorting Thorin, we can probably get into the observers' gallery without attracting attention."

"Once we take out the guards up in the gallery, we're going to need to get down to the main floor," Fíli said.

"I remember watching Council meetings from there. The balcony has to be at least twenty-five feet above the floor of the room," Dís said.

The blond Elf pulled a length of thin rope out of a belt pouch. "You can use this to get down from the gallery."

"Will it hold us?" Fíli asked, sounding dubious.

"I promise you, this rope will not break. It is woven from spider-silk, stronger than the finest steel."

One of the Dwarves whose name Thorin had already forgotten spoke up while scratching his head under his floppy-eared hat. "And what will the rest of us be doing, while you lot are up in the gallery pretending to be guards?"

"Bofur, Ori, Legolas, and Elladan, I need you to get in position to go in through the main entrance of the Council Chamber once we've made our move. Ori, you know how to get to the main doors?" Fíli asked. One of the younger-looking Dwarves nodded. Jerking his chin at the Elves, Fíli added, "I know how good your hearing is, so just keep an ear out for a commotion from inside and then rush the door."

The two Elves murmured their assent.

"And then what?" Dís demanded.

"And then we'll figure out what to do based on the situation," Fíli said. "We'll have the element of surprise and we'll be in a position to seize Dáin or Skalgar if we get a chance. Let's move. Mam, you take the lead since the guards might recognize me or Tofa if they get a closer look. Bilbo, you're with us."

Thorin wasn't sure which of them was Bilbo, but there was no chance to ask as they hurried him down the hallway while the remainder of the group worked on hiding the dead guards' bodies.

He did not feel confident that this plan would be successful, but really, what other choice did he have? He had thought himself entirely alone in the world, and now he found that not only did he have a sister, he had a sister-son too. What other family might he have that he didn't remember? Parents? Grandparents? Children of his own? He wanted to know everything, but at the same time he was afraid to ask. Not that that there was any time for that right now, of course.

"Bilbo, once we get in there, we'll need you to tie the ropes around the balcony railing if you can," Fíli said quietly. "Stay invisible and I don't think the guards will notice anything amiss."

"Well, I certainly do hope that you're right about that." 

The words had seemingly come out of thin air somewhere to his right. Thorin jerked his head to the side, but he could not see who had spoken. 

"One of you is invisible?" Even with as little memory as Thorin had of anything before the jail cell, he had the feeling that this was something out of the ordinary.

"Indeed he is. You'll have to meet our burglar later, after this is all done. I'll be most interested to hear what you think of him."

Thorin had a feeling there was more to it than Fíli was saying, but there was no more time for conversation. They turned a corner and found two guards standing posted outside of a nondescript door.

"There you are. Skalgar wants the prisoner gagged," one of the guards said. "Hold onto him when you're in there, too. The healer doesn't want him making a scene and spoiling the announcement."

That sounded ominous. Thorin felt a sudden surge of relief that Fíli's group had found him before this mysterious "announcement" happened. He concentrated on acting weak and dispirited as they quickly and efficiently gagged him. 

The observers' gallery was a wide balcony running around three sides of a room which Thorin estimated to be about thirty feet wide by sixty feet long. The short side of the gallery where they had entered had a floor to ceiling screen of pierced stone in place of a railing, so that people standing on that end of the gallery could not be observed by anyone in the room below. The two long sides of the gallery had normal railings. A guard stood at either end of the short side of the balcony, hidden from the room below by the screen. One of them motioned for Thorin and his "guards" to stand near the center of the screen.

Through the openings in the screen, he could see that the Council Chamber was about thirty feet below the level of the balcony. The room was dominated by a long, rectangular table with a dais at the far end where a throne-like chair would raise the King above the level of anyone else in the room. There was already a loud, fractious Council Meeting in session when they entered. From what Thorin could hear, they were arguing about a flat tax imposed on trade goods, though there were also veiled references to "excessive influence" that seemed to reference a source of disagreement that the council members were wary of discussing directly.

"Go, Bilbo," Fíli said under his breath. "This is your chance, while the guards aren't on high alert."

"Right," the disembodied voice said just as quietly. "I'm off."

"No sign of Dáin or Skalgar yet."

"Probably holding off in order to make a grand entrance," Dís responded. "That's what your great-grandfather used to do. Let them start arguing amongst themselves and then sweep into the room once they're distracted from their grievances against you."

As Dís had predicted, after several more minutes a red-haired Dwarf wearing a black and gold winged crown swept into the room. He was followed by a white-bearded, nondescript-looking Dwarf in healer's braids and a dozen guards. The council members continued arguing with each other even as the king sat down in the throne-like chair on the dais. After surveying the room, he slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair with a resounding bang.

The noise in the room died suddenly. Dáin smiled at the council members with an air of steely geniality. "Now then, if we're all finished squabbling like gravel miners, I have a wee announcement to make before we get into the meat of our Council Meeting. As you know, our most loyal friend Skalgar has been quietly serving as the Royal Healer for several years. The daft bugger is so humble that he's practically worked his fingers to the bone for the good of our kingdom without a shred of proper recognition!" 

Dáin paused until several of the council members produced a halfhearted chuckle. 

"Well, I've finally browbeaten him into accepting the honors that he is so very deserving of. Skalgar, our faithful Royal Healer, shall be henceforth known as our Royal Chamberlain and Keeper of the Vaults."

A hubbub broke out at that, but no one appeared to be willing to directly oppose the King's decree. Dáin smiled affably and declared that there would be a toast to honor the naming of his new Chamberlain.

As servants began to circulate around the room pouring dark red wine into goblets for each of the council members, Fíli made a stifled noise of alarm. "Skalgar's stock in trade is potions," he hissed. "We can't let them drink that wine!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to the_dragongirl and Lady_Juno for beta-reading!


	23. The Die Is Cast

Perhaps it was cowardly of Bilbo to keep his ring on once they found Thorin, but he convinced himself that it was better to do that than to risk distracting either one of them in the middle of such a perilous mission. He would speak to Thorin later, Bilbo promised himself. As soon as they were out of this and everyone was safe. 

And if Thorin did not remember him...then perhaps that was for the best, he told himself, attempting to ignore the sharp twinge of pain that thought brought with it.

For now he drank in the sight of Thorin, much thinner than he had been before the battle and moving with a caution that seemed to suggest recently healed injuries, but alive and whole against all odds. Even if Thorin didn't remember him, the fact that he was alive was all that mattered. It was far more than Bilbo had dared to hope for.

But what of the lies Bilbo had told? For months he had selfishly allowed everyone to believe that he and Thorin were married. Though he had originally begun the deception so that Dís could not forbid him from attempting to rescue Thorin and the boys, that seemed a feeble defense now that it was far too late to take it back. And although Bilbo had done it with the best of intentions, the thought of Thorin's probable reaction when he found out that Bilbo had lied to everyone about their supposed marriage sat uneasily in his stomach.

Enough of that nonsense, Bilbo scolded himself. He needed to stop mooning over Thorin like a lovesick tween and concentrate on more important things, such as not getting them all killed. If the Dwarven guards happened to notice the fact that lengths of rope were seemingly tying themselves to the railing, the whole plan would be sunk.

Heart in his throat, Bilbo expected at any moment to hear the guards' shouts of alarm as they noticed what he was doing. But his luck held and Bilbo managed to make three tidy knots atop the railing without drawing the guards' attention. The pale grey color of the Elvish rope blended into the stone of the railing and balcony, camouflaging the lengths of rope which lay coiled neatly on the stone. Remembering that Prince Legolas had said that the rope was made of spidersilk, Bilbo scrubbed his hands against the fabric of his trousers, attempting to rid himself of the sense-memory of touching the giant spiders' sticky webs. 

Now that his task was done, Bilbo dithered for a moment as he tried to figure out what he should do now. He could go rejoin the rest of them and wait, or he could take action on his own. His Took side winning over his Baggins side once again (as seemed to be happening more and more ever since the day a Wizard had appeared on his doorstep), Bilbo looked around for some way in which he could help.

The carved frieze that ran from floor to ceiling the entire width of the wall behind the King's dais caught his attention. Elaborately carved with repeating geometric patterns in the Dwarven fashion, it appeared to offer plenty of foot- and hand-holds for a Hobbit who had been famous--or perhaps infamous--for his tree-climbing prowess in his youth.

He wasn't sure exactly what he would do once he reached the ground, but whatever happened it seemed advantageous to have someone hidden and waiting near Dáin before the rest of the group up on the balcony made their move.

Bilbo realized at somewhere around the halfway mark that climbing thirty feet down a carved stone frieze had perhaps not been his brightest idea. From the perspective of the balcony, it had looked like a much shorter climb. His arms were beginning to shake from fatigue and his toes were cramping from the effort of maintaining his purchase on the smooth, sharp-cornered stone. Still, there was certainly no turning back now. He'd be lucky to make it to the bottom without falling; there was no way he could climb all the way back up to the top. Bilbo gritted his teeth and continued his slow, careful descent.

Due to the way that the patterns of the frieze repeated, it was easiest for him to move diagonally toward the center of the wall as he descended. He was about ten feet from the floor and almost directly behind the dais when the double doors at the far end of the room slammed open.

Dáin entered the room accompanied by a dozen guards and a white-haired Dwarf that Bilbo could only assume was the notorious "healer" Skalgar.

Bilbo froze, not daring to move a muscle until Dáin and his entourage reached the dais below him and turned away to face the rest of the room. Afraid that the nearby guards would somehow notice him if he continued climbing down the wall, Bilbo hung onto the carved stone in an agony of indecision while Dáin made a speech about how wonderful Skalgar was. He finished by giving the healer an impressive-sounding new title and proposing a toast to him.

Oh, that really was the absolute limit, Bilbo fumed as he carefully shifted around so that he could glare down at that...that _Orc-hearted weasel_. A scolding would be too good for him.

Due to his position about ten feet above the floor and directly behind the dais, it just so happened that Bilbo had the perfect vantage point from which to observe Dáin and Skalgar's reactions to the following events.

Three thin grey ropes dropped from the balcony above, swiftly followed by the forms of three Dwarves sliding down the ropes while shouting battle cries. Almost at the same moment, the doors at the end of the Council Room slammed open and two more Dwarves and two Elves stormed into the room. 

The council members fell into chaos, some leaping to their feet and drawing their weapons while others yelled about intruders while not appearing to do much of anything useful. Dáin's guards proved their training by splitting into two groups of six, the first group staying by Dáin's side in defensive stances while the other six moved to intercept the three Dwarves who had slid down the ropes into the room. Bilbo sincerely hoped that Thorin was staying up on the balcony in relative safety, for he had appeared to be in no shape for a battle after his long captivity.

Dáin shouted angrily and sprang to his feet. "How dare you intrude upon my Council, you motherless dogs?"

"Your Majesty, I advise retreating to safety," Skalgar said.

"I'll not be chased from my own Council Room!" Dáin fumed as he hefted his warhammer, seeming to be prepared to take on every one of the intruders by himself.

Skalgar reached into the cowl of his dark grey, embroidered velvet robes and pulled out a heavy golden necklace, from which dangled a pendant made from a large gemstone.

Not just any large gemstone, Bilbo realized--that was the _Arkenstone_. 

Perhaps he had been around Dwarves for too long, because he felt a moment of pure fury on Thorin's behalf at the thought of the King's Gem hanging around the neck of someone so unworthy. He was distracted from his fuming by the sight of Skalgar unhooking the pendant which held the Arkenstone from its chain and raising the stone into the air.

The gem began to glow with an uncanny light. All the obsequiousness was stripped from Skalgar's voice when he spoke to Dáin again. "We should leave."

"Aye." Dáin said slowly, all the readiness to fight suddenly drained from his body. "We should go."

Bilbo really, _really_ hated that bloody stone.

Trailed by a dazed-looking Dáin, Skalgar strode to the wall directly under where Bilbo still clung to the frieze. After a few deft movements of the healer's fingers, he heard a distinct click. Though he could not see it from this angle, Bilbo had no doubt that a secret door had sprung open below his perch. Oh, really--was the entire mountain riddled with secret passages, like veins of mold running through a block of blue cheese? _Dwarves_.

Bilbo hazarded a look at the rest of the room. Bofur, Ori, Elladan, and Legolas had fought their way from the door to join the rest of their group, but Dáin's guards were mounting a fierce resistance to protect their King. He had no doubt that given a few minutes they would prevail over the guards, but that was time they did not have. Skalgar and Dáin were about to flee, and there was no telling whether they would be able to hunt them down in the maze of secret passages. Bilbo would have to follow them while invisible, or else they would never know where Skalgar had fled to.

Skalgar paused and turned to face the room, raising the Arkenstone once again. The glow of the stone intensified. Bilbo wasn't sure what the healer was about to do with the stone, but he was sure it couldn't be good. There was only one thing he could think of to do at that moment.

Heart in his throat, Bilbo jumped.

Just as his fingertips lost contact with the stone frieze, he realized how very foolish he would feel if he misjudged the distance and ended up landing in a heap at Skalgar's feet. But it was too late to worry about that now.

***

"I could have sworn the royal bedchambers were to the right," Balin grumbled, stroking his beard pensively. They had reached an intersection between two corridors and opinions were split on the direction they should go from here.

"No, they're to the left," Óin insisted.

It seemed that the two Dwarves were about to get into another argument, their third so far. Tauriel tried to stifle a sigh. 

She felt Kíli's hand squeeze hers. "It'll be alright," he murmured, looking up at her in a way that she was almost certain was not intended to emphasize his long, sooty eyelashes as much as it did. The effect was irresistible...not that she had any wish to resist it.

"I know, _meleth nín_." She leaned down and he leaned up and they kissed softly, sweetly, as in the background the argument continued.

Kíli cradled the side of her face in his big, blunt-fingered hand. "We never seem to get any time to just be alone together."

"Well," she said in a gently teasing tone, "you have been presumed dead for almost all of the time we've been married."

"After this, we're going to take a month to ourselves. Just you and I--" He leaned up to murmur into her ear, "And a very large bed." Feeling her body flush with warmth from her toes to the tips of her ears, she caught his lips in a passionate kiss.

"Oh, for--is this _really_ the time?" Nori asked. 

When their lips parted, she caught Kíli making a hand motion at the thief which she guessed meant something rude, based on the laughter of the other Dwarves.

"We're going this way," Glóin announced, stalking forward down the corridor instead of turning to either the left or the right. After a moment of hesitation, the rest of the group shrugged and followed him.

They turned a corner and Tauriel spotted the bodies lying on the floor a split second before the Dwarves did. The group broke into a run, boots pounding on the marble floor. As they slid to a stop, they discovered that the bodies were those of dead guards lying sprawled on the floor in front of a set of double doors that had been left thrown open.

Beyond the doorway was a scene of utter chaos. There were at least two distinct groups of combatants fighting in the large, rectangular room. After a moment of searching, she found that most of their friends and allies were in the group fighting near a dais at the far end of the room. 

Shouting battle cries, the rest of their group dove into the melee with gusto. Nori paused and turned back long enough to say, "Stay here, the two of you, or else Princess Dís really will bloody well murder me!"

Tauriel bit her lip, trying to think how she and Kíli could possibly help while unable to fight in the melee for fear of losing contact with each other. She had her bow slung over her shoulder, but she needed both hands free to shoot. 

"Easy, _gimlinh_." Seemingly reading her mind, Kíli smoothly switched which hand was holding hers so that he could move behind her, wrapping his free arm around her midsection above her rounded belly. He then released her hand and slid his fingers up her fabric-covered arm and shoulder until his palm touched the bare skin of her neck. All that was done so quickly and deftly that there was barely a moment of lost contact between them. 

"You can shoot now," he murmured. The sensation of his palm and fingers cradling the side of her neck felt strangely intimate, despite the situation. She shivered a little and felt the arm around her midsection tighten, pulling her back against his broad chest.

Deliberately clearing her mind and pushing away her awareness of Kíli's warm body against hers, Tauriel unshouldered her bow and drew it. She held at full extension as her eyes ran over the melee, seeking a clear shot with no danger of hitting one of their allies.

Movement on the dais caught her eye. Dáin and a Dwarf she could only assume was the healer they had heard so much about were moving back towards the far wall. After a moment, a door opened in the wall where there had not appeared to be one before. Then the healer turned around and raised something glowing into the air.

She could not let them escape. Her focus narrowed down to an arrow's point as she focused on the monster who had kept her beloved Kíli captive and experimented on him for months with his noxious potions. 

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and loosed the arrow.

***

"Stay here, Uncle," the young Dwarf said, pressing a sheathed knife into Thorin's hands. "We'll deal with Dáin and Skalgar."

Watching the Dwarves who had rescued him and claimed him as their kinsman sliding down the ropes to the Council Chamber, Thorin knew that he could not live with himself if he stayed behind in safety while they put their lives in danger. He might not be the warrior he had apparently once been, but he could still fight. 

He grimaced as he looked down at what he wore. He had the knife which Fíli had given him, but the thin fabric of his ragged shirt and trousers would be no protection in battle. Looting the armor from a fallen enemy seemed disrespectful, but he had no choice. 

Murmuring an apology to the dead guard and his ancestors, Thorin quickly stripped the guard of his leather and chainmail jerkin and shrugged it on over his thin shirt. He couldn't bring himself to steal the dead guard's boots. Besides, he thought, it would be easier to climb down the rope with bare feet. Sliding down the ropes as the others had was definitely beyond him, but with effort and care he thought that he could manage to climb down safely. 

Hoping that this was not as foolish an idea as he suspected it might be, Thorin gripped the rope and slowly began to descend.

He managed the first ten or so feet without any problems. Then he lost his grip and had a nerve-wracking moment where he slid about five feet, but managed to stop himself at the cost of rope burns to his palms. 

"This was an awful plan," Thorin muttered to himself. He wondered if he'd always had a tendency towards those.

The noise of the fight below him became almost overwhelming as he neared the floor. He hazarded a look beneath him just to make sure he wouldn't be skewered as soon as he hit the ground, but the area below him appeared to be fairly clear. The fight had shifted closer to the dais. He could pick out the taller forms of the Elves in the melee but everyone else blurred together into a solid mass of Dwarves.

He fell the last several feet and twisted his ankle as he landed, going down onto his knees with a grunt of pain. Thorin swore to himself softly. It wasn't an incapacitating injury by any means, but he knew that it would slow him down.

Limping, he started toward the dais. Trying to steer clear of the edges of the melee, he ended up near the carved wall at the end of the room, which proved helpful as he used it to support some of his weight to keep it off of his sprained ankle. No one involved in the battle was paying him the least bit of attention. His pride smarted a bit at that, even though he realized it was probably an advantage that no one thought him enough of a threat to stop him.

He spotted the Dwarves who had been pointed out to him as Skalgar and Dáin retreating from the dais to the wall, where Skalgar opened a hidden door with a few deft movements. Turning back towards the room, Skalgar reached a hand into his robe and pulled out a necklace with a fist-sized gem hanging from it. He raised the gem in the air and Thorin watched, mesmerized, as the gem seemed to begin glowing with an internal fire.

He didn't know what Skalgar was doing with that gem, but he was certain that something terrible was about to happen. Letting go of the wall, Thorin started hobbling toward them as quickly as he could.

***

Time seemed to slow down as Bilbo jumped, aiming for the healer who was standing almost directly below him, holding the glowing Arkenstone up at arm's length. 

The world was grey and hushed, as it always was when he wore the ring. Then suddenly the world rushed in again, overpoweringly loud and bright, and Bilbo realized that his ring had somehow slipped from his finger.

Skalgar looked up and his eyes widened as he saw Bilbo falling towards him, but it was too late for him to dodge. Bibo crashed into him.

***

Tauriel knew that she had a clear shot. After five hundred years in the Forest Guard, she could shoot the eye of a spider from forty yards away, in high wind, while sliding down a tree trunk. Hitting Skalgar in the chest from less than twenty yards away across a chaotic melee was nothing in comparison.

But just as her fingers released the string, she saw that Bilbo was suddenly--impossibly--falling onto Skalgar from above. The arrow she had meant for Skalgar would surely pierce Bilbo's flesh instead.

All that flashed through her mind in an instant as she jerked her arm to the side, trying desperately to affect the trajectory of the arrow in the split second before it left her bow completely.

***

As Thorin hobbled towards Skalgar as quickly as he could manage, a figure appeared out of thin air above the healer, falling. 

Before Thorin's brain caught up to what was happening, the person thudded heavily into Skalgar, whose arms jerked up reflexively from the force of the blow. Then an arrow sped out of nowhere and pierced the hand which had been holding the glowing gem. The stone flew out of Skalgar's hand, hit the ground, and skittered across the stone towards Thorin.

Acting purely on reflex, Thorin caught the gem as it slid by him.

The sensation he felt upon touching the gem could best be described in terms of the time he had almost been flattened by a house-sized chunk of rock flung by a catapult. It was the same feeling of being knocked off his feet by a shock wave, falling to the ground bruised and battered by the force of the impact.

Cradling the Arkenstone to his chest, Thorin blinked up at the ceiling of his grandfather's Council Chamber. He remembered everything: his life, his family, Erebor, the Company, his beloved Hobbit--

And then his mind replayed the events of the last few seconds, and the anonymous figure who had fallen onto Skalgar was unmistakably _Bilbo_. 

Thorin's heart thumped with sudden fear as he scrambled to his feet, clutching the Arkenstone in one hand. Where was he? Where was Bilbo?

A guard saw Thorin approach the dais and raised his sword, preparing to strike, and then stopped suddenly with a look of utter confusion on his face. All around him the guards who had just moments ago been trying their damnedest to kill the Company were lowering their weapons, blinking as if they had just awakened from a dream.

Thorin shoved past the dazed-looking guard and took in the situation behind the dais at a glance. Bilbo was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. Nearby Dáin was doubled over, clutching at his head and moaning in agony. Skalgar was climbing to his feet, one hand dripping with blood and his eyes blazing with fury.

As Thorin watched, Bilbo rolled to his side and managed to get to his hands and knees, but that seemed to be as much as he could manage. The Hobbit swayed on all fours with his head down in the posture of someone fighting the urge to vomit. He obviously did not notice Skalgar start to move toward him while holding something small and shiny in his hand.

Thorin shouted something, he wasn't even sure what, as he broke into a run. He was certain that he wouldn't reach Bilbo in time--too far away, slowed down by his own weakness and his twisted ankle--but whatever it was that Skalgar was carrying, he was certain that the bastard meant to somehow do Bilbo harm.

Thorin would die before he let that happen.

***

Bilbo had been right. Throwing himself bodily at Skalgar had been a dreadful idea.

His eyes weren't focusing properly and he listed to the side as he tried to get his feet under himself so that he could stand up. Hands and knees appeared to be the best that he could do right now. Someone was shouting at him, though. It sounded urgent. 

Swallowing to keep his stomach under control, Bilbo sat back on his heels and looked around blearily. It seemed that the fighting had stopped. In the crowd, he saw several of the members of the Company who had stayed behind in Erebor as well as the group that had accompanied him from Rivendell. He picked Fíli out of the crowd as he turned to face Bilbo and saw his face contort in fear as Fíli spotted something behind Bilbo.

Strong hands seized his upper arms and pulled him forcibly to his feet. Bilbo cried out in pain as the movement jostled his head, which ached so sharply that he thought perhaps he'd hit it on the ground when he fell. The person who had picked him up hooked an arm roughly around Bilbo's neck, half-strangling him.

"The needle in my hand has been treated with a poison of my own devising," the person holding him said in a low but carrying voice. "If you value the Halfling's life, you will not force me to use it." 

Something sharp pricked at the side of Bilbo's neck without breaking the skin. He made an undignified noise and stopped moving, still hanging onto the arm hooked around his neck but no longer trying to struggle.

"Let him go," Fíli called, dropping his sword and raising his hands in the air. Behind him, the rest of the Company plus the Elves lowered their weapons.

"Now, why would I do that?" Skalgar asked in a calm and pragmatic-sounding voice. "Your fear for the safety of the Halfling is all that keeps you from killing me right now. I promise that I will release him unharmed as soon as I am well away from Erebor, but not a moment before."

"If you harm a hair on Bilbo's head I will find you and I will end you," a voice that Bilbo immediately recognized as Thorin's growled.

Bilbo gasped. If Thorin recognized him, then he must have regained his memories. He rolled his eyes to the side as far as he could without moving his head, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of Thorin.

"Ah, I see that contact with the Arkenstone has returned your memories. Fascinating. I'd love to stay and find out if you have any gaps in your memories or any other long-term effects of the treatment, but I fear that I must be going before one of your Elves decides to test whether their arrows can reach me before my needle pierces the Halfling's vein."

One of the worst things about Skalgar, Bilbo thought, was how very _reasonable_ he sounded.

The entire room stood poised to move and yet helpless against his threats as the healer edged towards the secret door. Bilbo could see Tauriel standing near the main entrance to the room with her bow drawn. Her face was drained of blood and her eyes were huge and anguished as she watched the healer drag Bilbo towards the doorway.

Bilbo closed his eyes on reflex and then forced himself to open them again, not wanting to miss what would probably be his last glimpse of the people he loved. Skalgar obviously could not let him go until they were out of range of pursuit, and Bilbo very much doubted that he would survive his own loss of usefulness to the healer. Actually, he thought, if he was very unlucky then Skalgar would keep him alive to do the same kind of experiments that had very nearly killed Kíli.

As Skalgar turned slightly, backing towards the secret door, Bilbo could finally see Thorin. The look in Thorin's eyes was terrible, but if this was Bilbo's last chance to see his beloved, he would not--could not--look away. He wished that he had been able to learn the Dwarven sign language, so that at least he could tell Thorin that he loved him one last time.

"What I don't understand in all of this is what precisely you planned to achieve." Bilbo was proud of how little his voice shook as he spoke, despite his feelings of abject terror. "Unless you actually are just barking mad, you must have a goal of some sort."

Skalgar didn't pause as he continued backing up towards the doorway. "Knowledge is its own reward, they say, and yet I've always found that knowledge is worth nothing without power." His voice dropped to an intimate murmur as he murmured into Bilbo's ear. Terribly aware of the needle pressing against his neck, Bilbo fought the urge to shudder with revulsion. "In the end, it really does not matter that you've foiled one tiny portion of my master's plans. The things I've learned here will earn me a place at my master's right hand when the world--"

There was no warning. One moment Skalgar was hissing into Bilbo's ear, and the next there was a sound like a cleaver chopping into a melon. With a horrifying gurgle, Skalgar collapsed to the ground, dragging Bilbo with him by the arm still hooked around his neck. 

There was a sharp pain in his neck. Bilbo's hand flew up to feel the needle piercing his skin. 

"Oh dear. This can't be good at all," he whispered. Skalgar might be dead now, but it appeared that he had succeeded in taking Bilbo down with him.

There was a confusion of voices crying out then, but loudest of all was the sound of Thorin's voice shouting, "Bilbo!"

***

Thorin fell to his knees next to Bilbo where he had fallen, lying on his back next to Skalgar's dead body. The Hobbit's small hand was cupped protectively over the right side of his neck, almost hiding the place where the poisoned needle had pierced his skin. "Bilbo!"

Bilbo blinked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. "You do remember me."

"My _âzyungel_ , I am so sorry for bringing you into such danger. You should have lived out your life in peace and safety in your Shire. Instead I have brought you only pain and death." Thorin shook his head, feeling tears burning in his eyes.

"Thorin, you stop that right this instant," Bilbo said sharply. "I'll not have you brooding over this and blaming yourself for whatever happens to me. I made the decision to come along and help rescue you and the boys, and I don't regret it, not for one minute, even if it costs me my life."

"There'll be no dying today, lad," Óin said as he knelt on Bilbo's right side. "You over there, Elves! If one of you knows healing, come here and make yourself useful. You, Thorin, go be melodramatic somewhere where you're not in my way."

Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo's forehead before standing up and backing out of the way. He watched, feeling helpless, as Óin carefully slid the needle out of Bilbo's neck and laid it to the side. A dark-haired Elf knelt next to Óin and spread his hands out over Bilbo's chest. Kíli arrived a moment later holding hands with the red-haired she-Elf that Thorin remembered from Thranduil's guard. Both of them fell to their knees on Bilbo's other side.

"I'm sorry, cousin," a voice rasped near him. Thorin jerked his head to the side and saw Dáin, leaning heavily on the handle of his warhammer. "I knew there was no way that vile worm would have let the Halfling go unharmed, and I thought I was fast enough to kill him before he could react."

Thorin's eyes dropped to the business end of his cousin's warhammer, which was covered in gore. It had been Dáin who had struck the blow which killed Skalgar and in so doing sealed Bilbo's doom. 

Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, controlling the rush of irrational fury through his veins. After he mastered his anger, Thorin opened his eyes and told Dáin, "It was the right call. That filth would have killed Bilbo as soon as he was no longer useful to him. You were the only one who was both close enough and standing behind him." It was true--no one else would even have had a chance of hitting Skalgar unawares. It was simply bad luck that the needle had pierced Bilbo's skin in the process.

Dáin looked like he would have spit on the corpse if Bilbo and the healers had not still been huddled next to it. "Aye, he thought my spirit so broken that he need not be wary of me. I'd say that my hammer taught him the error of his ways in the moment before it crushed his skull."

"How did you resist Skalgar's control?" Thorin asked, trying to distract himself from the sight of Óin pressing a poultice to the side of Bilbo's neck and the dark-haired Elf holding his hands over the Hobbit's chest while chanting in the Elven language. "You seemed completely under his command before." It was strange now to remember having seen Dáin before Thorin recovered his memories, when his cousin had been just another stranger to him.

"Oh, I've no idea, but if I had to hazard a guess I'd say it has something to do with that great glowing rock you're holding."

Startled, Thorin looked down and for the first time realized that he was still holding the Arkenstone in his right hand. Then Kíli called him over to Bilbo's side and the mystery of the Arkenstone was entirely forgotten, at least for the moment.

***

Bilbo wrinkled his nose as Óin slapped something cold, wet, and sharply astringent-smelling on his neck where Skalgar's needle had pierced his skin. Kneeling next to the old healer, Elrohir continued quietly chanting while holding his hands over Bilbo's chest. 

Overall, Bilbo would have to say that he preferred the Elven approach to healing. The chanting was pretty, and if he concentrated he could come up with a rough translation into Westron. Óin's treatments, on the other hand, always smelled a little bit like cat urine to him.

At least he had written his will before he left the Shire, Bilbo thought. His Took relatives would make sure that whoever ended up with Bag End would be someone who would truly appreciate it as a home. It made him feel better to imagine one of his Took cousins raising a family there. He smiled faintly as he imagined happy fauntlings playing in the back garden, hiding in the pantries, climbing the apple trees...

"Bilbo! _Mellon nín_ , you must stay awake!"

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes. He opened them and blinked until Tauriel's face came into focus. "Did I tell you about the spoons?"

Tauriel exchanged a worried-looking glance with Kíli, who stood up and began gesticulating wildly with his free hand, apparently beckoning someone over. 

Bilbo knew Tauriel too well to be fooled by the calm tone with which she said, "I do not believe so. Tell me about them, _mellon_."

"I left them all to Lobelia in my will. Every single one of my mother's silver spoons is to go to her. But only the spoons, mind you."

That startled a laugh out of Tauriel, though her eyes were shining with tears. "I do not believe that you dislike her quite so much as you have always claimed to do." Sitting down next to her again, Kíli put his arm around Tauriel and kissed her shoulder.

"Well, feuding with Lobelia is a bit of a tradition by now, you see..." He trailed off, seeing Thorin approaching with an expression on his face of such bleak misery that Bilbo's heart clenched in sympathy. "I was wondering where you had wandered off to," he said with deliberate lightness as Thorin dropped onto his knees next to him with an audible thump. "Seemed a shame to lose track of you so soon after traveling halfway across Middle Earth to find you."

His gently teasing words did not have the reassuring effect Bilbo had hoped for. Thorin's shoulders jerked at the word "lose" as if he'd been physically struck.

"My darling, silly Dwarf." Bilbo lifted his hand, reaching for Thorin's face. Thorin caught it in his left hand and pressed Bilbo's palm to the side of his bearded face. 

"Oh, _ghivashel_ , I should never have taken you away from your Shire and brought you into such peril. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love."

"No, don't say that. I don't regret any of this, Thorin. Don't you dare blame yourself. I told you before that this is far, far more than any Baggins deserves, and I meant it."

Instead of answering, Thorin closed his eyes and pressed bristly kisses to the palm of Bilbo's hand. Bilbo would have scolded him for using silence to avoid an argument, but he was beginning to feel very cold and lethargic and he had the feeling that he needed to save his breath. "Tauriel and Kíli, I want you to know that I left a few things to the baby in my will. Just a few keepsakes for when your _pîn elloth_ comes of age: Sting and my mail shirt."

Kíli's eyes widened to an almost comical degree when Bilbo mentioned his mail shirt and he gave his uncle a worried look for some reason. Thorin's hand folded tightly around Bilbo's but he said nothing. 

The threatening tears spilled over onto Tauriel's cheeks and Kíli pulled her close to his side, murmuring to her softly. Bilbo wanted to pat her knee reassuringly, but moving seemed to be beyond him right now. Oh dear, that was a bad sign, he thought. There was one more thing he needed to say before the end, though.

"Thorin, I need to apologize to you."

Thorin drew a deep breath that ended in a stifled sob. "You do not need to apologize for anything, my _âzyungel_."

"I really do, though." Bilbo's own voice was beginning to sound to him as if he were talking underwater, but he persisted. As many lies as he'd told during his lifetime, he couldn't go to his grave with this one on his conscience. "I let your sister believe that you and I were married so that she couldn't forbid me from coming along. I meant to come clean once we rescued you, but I suppose it's a bit late for that now. So, ah, sorry about that."

There was a great buzzing noise in his ears and the room was beginning to go dark around him. An anguished look on his face, Thorin was saying something to him with great urgency, but Bilbo couldn't quite make it out above the increasingly loud sound of the buzzing. 

Then the room went dark and then very bright, and everything was still and silent.

***

"Well, Bilbo Baggins, you really have gotten yourself into a pickle this time."

The rich, resonant voice startled him awake. Bilbo blinked his eyes open and saw a familiar grey-bearded face smiling down at him.

Everything would be alright now, he told himself. Of course it would be. 

Gandalf was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to the_dragongirl and Lady_Juno for beta-reading!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> âzyungel – love of loves  
> ghivashel - treasure of treasures  
> gimlinh - star lady
> 
> Sindarin:  
> meleth nín - my love  
> mellon nín - my friend  
> pîn elloth - little flower


	24. As the Pieces Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to apologize for the long delay in posting and thank everyone who was polite and understanding about the hiatus. I had a few things happen in my personal life that resulted in half a year of writer's block. I can only say that this length of a hiatus is unlikely to occur again.
> 
> Secondly, I owe a huge thank-you to the-dragongirl for her encouragement, insightful suggestions, and willingness to beta this beast of a chapter on short notice.

The Royal Council Room of Erebor was a scene of utter chaos. Half of the Dwarves who had recently been trying their damnedest to kill them were moaning and cradling their heads as if experiencing the worst hangovers of their lives. The rest were milling around the room in varying states of confusion and distress.

Dís watched as Thorin collapsed to his knees at Bilbo's side while holding desperately to the Hobbit's hand. Despite Oin and Elrohir's best efforts, Bilbo lay motionless on the ground with ashen face and slightly blue-tinged lips. She was not close enough to hear the words that passed between Thorin and Bilbo but she knew the look of a deathbed confession when she saw one. 

She felt her heart twist in her chest at the naked grief on her brother's face. It was clear to her that Thorin truly loved the Hobbit. After all that her brother had been through, all of the losses that he had forced himself to survive, it struck her as monstrously unfair that he should lose the one he loved within mere minutes of their reunion. 

_Fight it_ , she thought, as if there were any way that the Hobbit could hear her. _For my brother's sake, fight. You must survive this. Losing you would ruin him._

But she knew better than most that death would come in its own time, no matter how far and fast you ran from it.

Kíli and Tauriel knelt on Bilbo's other side with the Elf leaning a tear-stained face on Kíli's shoulder. Dís felt a surge of bittersweet maternal pride as she watched her son wrap a supportive arm around his pregnant wife. She still might not be entirely comfortable with her younger son's choices, but there was no doubt in Dís's heart that Kíli would turn out to be a wonderful husband and father.

Except--now that she was thinking about it, how had Kíli and Tauriel ended up here in Erebor? Last she had known they had been safely tucked away in Dale and planning to stay that way until Thorin was rescued. Looking over the crowd that had gathered around Bilbo's prone form, she found the six members of the Company who had been left behind in Erebor: Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Balin, Óin, and Glóin.

Nori hadn't reappeared by the time that Dís's group had left for Erebor, but now she spotted the thief hovering around Dwalin, who was having a cut on his arm bandaged by Balin. The thief was doing a poor job of pretending that he was not at all concerned about the state of Dwalin's health. Dís snorted and shook her head, unwillingly amused. She would bet a shiny Rohan silver mark that Nori was somehow responsible for Kíli and Tauriel having ventured into Erebor despite their promise to stay out of danger.

There was nothing that Dís could do to help Bilbo, but she could help Thorin by taking command of the situation so that he would not be pulled away from his beloved's side. 

First things first. Eyes narrowed, she searched through the crowd until she spotted her possibly-treacherous kinsman Dáin leaning wearily on the handle of his warhammer.

"Cousin Dáin," she called as she made her way to his side.

"Dís! As glad as I am to see you, lass, I do wish the circumstances were less dire," he said, shaking his head wearily. 

"Indeed." Dís grabbed Dáin's elbow and steered him far enough away that there was no chance that their voices could carry to the group around Bilbo. "So, _cousin_ , would you care to tell me how it is that you were crowned King of Erebor while all the while Thorin and his heirs--my _sons_ \--moldered away in your prison cells?" She had intended the question to sting, and took a certain mean satisfaction in the way that Dáin flinched at her words.

"Dís, you must know I never would have done any of that if I hadn't been under the control of that damn charlatan Skalgar."

"Were you really? I fail to see how any advisor, no matter how convincing his arguments, could make a man turn on his kin entirely unwillingly."

Dáin's face flushed bright red with anger as he grated out, "He made me into a puppet. I was nothing but a mannikin dancing on his strings. I don't know how the bastard did it, but he could cloud a man's mind and take away his will with nothing but a puff of smoke or a potion."

"A potion..." Dís repeated, frowning as she tried to remember why that word had jogged her memory. Just before they had leapt off the balcony, Fíli had said something about Skalgar and his potions. 

She gasped as the memory came back to her. "The wine!" 

With no thought of dignity, Dís bolted for the huge table in the center of the Council Room where the flagons of wine had been poured. She shouted a warning but was too late to save one councillor from drinking deeply from an abandoned flagon. As the cup tipped from his hand, the Dwarf collapsed bonelessly to the floor. 

The fallen Dwarf's eyes were half-lidded, his muscles lax, and he did not respond to shaking or slaps to the cheek. 

"Let me try something," Dáin said. At her nod, he said in a clear, carrying voice, "Sit up."

The councillor sat up but did not otherwise move, his eyes half-open and unfocused.

"Touch your right hand to your left elbow." The order was obeyed in utter silence. Dáin looked pained but a tiny bit vindicated as he looked at Dís and asked, "Are you convinced now?"

"By Durin's bloody _hammer_. It strains the bounds of belief, but between this and what Skalgar did to Kíli, I must admit that I find myself believing you." Dís rubbed a hand across her forehead and wondered what time it was. She felt as if this day would never end. "I wish that you hadn't crushed the bastard's skull though, for I have many questions about this business that I fear will forever go unanswered."

Dáin's eyes were weary and bleak. "I regret that too, but I could not see any other way to save the wee Halfling's life. Not that it helped, in the end."

"I don't blame you, cousin. You did what you had to do." She could tell that he did not entirely believe her, but she was too tired and worn out to convince him of her sincerity.

A sudden uproar at the door to the Council Chamber drew her attention. A few of the guardsman had apparently regained enough equilibrium to go back to guarding the door and they seemed to be trying to keep someone from entering. 

"Go on, lass. I'll deal with this."

With a grateful squeeze to her cousin's shoulder, Dís stiffened her spine and marched toward the commotion. 

When she reached the doorway she found that the guardsmen were having a standoff with an old Man in a tattered grey robe.

"Whatever it is that you're selling, I can assure you that we do not want it." Dís stood with her hand resting on the hilt of the sword sheathed at her belt.

The old Man's eyes sharpened upon her. "Dís, daughter of Thráin," he murmured as if to himself.

For an outsider to know the name of a female Dwarf was unexpected, to say the least. With an effort, Dís kept her surprise from showing on her face. "You know my name, and yet I do not know yours."

"I am Gandalf the Grey." He gave a short bow. Something in his tone of voice told her that he expected that anyone who heard his name would know who he was. As it happened, Dís did recognize his name, but perhaps not quite in the way that he expected.

"Gandalf, you say." Dís raised an eyebrow at him. "Ah yes, I do remember someone by that name: the barmy charlatan who nearly got my sons and brother killed by a dragon. Why are you here?"

"Hmmph!" The old Man looked taken aback. "The Lady Galadriel sent me, at her grandsons' request."

"And why should I care that the Lady of Lórien sent you hither? This is Dwarven business."

"Mam!" Fíli said in an appalled tone as he joined them at the doorway.

Dís scanned him quickly for injury and was relieved to see that he appeared to have come through the melee unmarked except for a minor cut on his cheekbone. Her eyes flicked past him and she could feel herself scowling as she spotted Tofa following Fíli behind his left shoulder in the traditional position of a second-in-command. How had the mercenary wormed her way into Fíli's trust so easily?

"Gandalf," Fíli breathed with a relieved-looking smile. "Am I ever glad to see you! You must come quickly--Bilbo has been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" The old Man looked alarmed. "Take me to him at once."

Chewing on her lower lip, Dís glared after Gandalf as he walked away. If the old Man was able to help Bilbo, then she supposed he wasn't entirely useless. Glancing away, she accidentally met Tofa's eyes. The mercenary was looking right at her with an expression that could almost be described as _affectionate_. 

"What?" Dís snapped.

Tofa tipped her head slightly to the side as a smile spread across her face. "You."

"Me, what?" Dís felt a strange emotion rising in her chest as she met Tofa's warm gaze. No one had looked at her this way, as if she were something to be treasured, in years--not since Víli had passed. It was disconcerting to have anyone look at her and seem to see _her_ , Dís, not just Thráin's daughter, Thorin's sister, and Fíli and Kíli's mother.

"Just, you." Tofa shrugged with that damnably fond expression on her face and turned to follow Fíli. 

Dís felt confused and oddly disappointed as she watched the mercenary walk away. After a few steps, Tofa stopped and looked back at her with an expectant eyebrow raised. "Aren't you coming?"

Dís paused to instruct the guards, "No one else is to enter or leave this room unless ordered by a member of the royal family." Then feeling strangely off-balance she hurried to follow the mercenary who was still waiting for her with a smile curving the corners of her lips.

By the time they reached the huddle that had formed around the Hobbit, Gandalf was kneeling by Bilbo's side. The old Wizard had a hand spread out above Bilbo's heart and his eyes were closed but he didn't seem to be doing anything, not even chanting as the Elves had. 

"Go away, the lot of you," Gandalf snapped. "I can't hear myself think with all of you hovering."

Thorin moved away a few steps and then just stood there, looking helpless and bereft. Dís crossed to him swiftly and caught him up in a hug. She felt his shoulders stiffening and remembered all at once that he had no real idea who she was. 

"I'm sorry," she said, releasing him and backing away. "I forgot that you don't remember me. Forgive me for being so forward."

"It's all right," Thorin said, gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her back into a hug. "I remember everything now, Dís."

"Thorin." She closed her eyes for a few moments, soaking in the comfort of feeling her brother's arms around her. "I thought you were dead." 

"It's all right now, little sister," Thorin murmured. She suspected he was trying to convince himself of that as well. "It's going to be all right."

"How did you regain your memory?" Dís asked, pulling away enough that she could see his face.

"It must have been the Arkenstone. Skalgar was holding it up in the air and then something--I think an arrow--knocked it out of his hand and then...I don't understand it, but the moment I touched it all of my memories returned." Thorin sounded just as baffled by that as she felt. He held the stone out in his hand and she gasped at the sight of it. The stone which had always glowed an intense white now had tiny streaks of dull purplish-grey around the edges.

"Give me the Arkenstone," Gandalf ordered urgently, holding out his hand without looking away from Bilbo. "Quickly now!"

Dís bristled at the order. The gem of kings would certainly _not_ be handed over like a piece of rubbish to some supposedly-mystical old vagabond.

To her shock and disbelief, Thorin dropped the Arkenstone into Gandalf's hand without a single word of protest.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at Thorin.

"Peace, little sister. I trust the Wizard's talent for healing, if nothing else."

Gandalf placed the Arkenstone on Bilbo's chest above his heart. Covering the Arkenstone with both hands, he bowed his head in an attitude of intense concentration. "Lord Elrohir and Lord Elladan, I shall require your aid," he said without raising his voice appreciably. 

The Elven lords joined Gandalf at Bilbo's side, likewise kneeling and placing their hands over the Arkenstone. 

Dís jumped as Prince Legolas appeared next to her seemingly out of nowhere and asked, "Might I be of assistance?"

 _Damned stealthy Elves need to be belled like cats so that you can keep track of them,_ Dís thought, though admittedly with less rancor than she would have felt a few short months ago.

Gandalf simply nodded and Legolas joined the other Elves.

Holding hands with Kíli in a way that suggested they were trying to keep it out of Thorin's sight, Tauriel said, "I am not much of a healer, but I can channel raw energy if that is what you need."

Gandalf looked up with a gaze that seemed to Dís to be focused a little past Tauriel to something invisible. "How on Arda have the two of you managed to entangle your spirits like a patch of brambles? Once we're done here we shall need spend some time figuring out what you've done with that _faelif_ of yours."

So much for keeping that little revelation from Thorin. Dís snuck a look over at her brother and sighed at the frown she could see forming on his face.

"In the meantime, your link with young Kíli might prove invaluable to our efforts, Tauriel. Come, place your joined hands above ours." Gandalf closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath.

They were so crowded around Bilbo that she could barely see his small form. The combined powers of a Wizard, four Elves, and (for whatever mysterious reason) her younger son seemed a bit excessive to Dís, but then again, what did she know of Wizards and their magic?

The low sound of Gandalf's muttering was overlaid by the sound of the Elves chanting something in unison. Kíli looked somewhat overwhelmed but gamely held on to the top of the pile of hands over Bilbo's heart.

Slowly, so slowly that Dís did not even notice it until she had to shield her eyes from the glare, a bright glow began to emanate from the Arkenstone. It spread out to cover Bilbo, then the group closest to him, then spread out further like a bubble of almost blinding light. Dís flinched as it reached her and then expanded past, enveloping everything around her in an almost tangible blanket of soft white light. Suddenly a flood of happy memories filled her mind, almost as if they were overflowing from a spring within her soul: the scent of hot metal in her forge in Ered Luin, the sound of her mother's voice singing a lullaby, the taste of her husband's venison stew, the feel of her brother's strong arms around her as they hugged, and the sight of her sons smiling and laughing together.

Dís's eyes filled with sudden tears as the feeling of utter happiness filled her up until she thought that her heart might burst from the pressure. The moment before it became too much to bear, the light faded away.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath, blinking the last of the moisture from her eyes. She could hear more than a few stifled sobs in the crowd around her. It seemed that she was not the only one who had been overwhelmed by the memories and feelings that the light had brought with it.

To her dismay, she saw that Thorin had collapsed to his knees, his shoulders shaking. " _Nadad_!" she cried, too shocked to keep herself from using the sacred language within earshot of Elves.

Bowing his head, Thorin covered his eyes with one hand. "I'm fine, Dís. I just...it was too much. Give me a moment." Clearing his throat, he added hoarsely, "Go check on Bilbo."

She made eye contact with Dwalin and indicated with a significant nod of her head for him to take care of her brother while she checked on the Hobbit's health. The big warrior's cheeks were streaked with unselfconscious tears as he squatted next to Thorin and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him quietly. 

Pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered around the dais, Dís found Tauriel sitting with her legs crossed tailor-style and Bilbo's head resting on her lap. Though Kíli and Tauriel were still holding hands, the Elf stroked the Hobbit's curly hair with her free hand. Bilbo's eyes were still closed but his color looked better. He had lost the grayish, waxy tone to his skin and his chest rose and fell in what looked like a more natural slumber than his earlier unconsciousness. 

As Dís watched, Gandalf used his staff to lever himself to his feet. The Wizard's face was lined with exhaustion. He had looked old to her earlier, but now he looked positively ancient. 

"What was that, Wizard?" Dís demanded.

"That?" He looked down at Bilbo pensively. "That, Dís daughter of of Thráin, was the effect of cleansing an entire mountain of Darkness and evil influence, and saving a brave Hobbit's life in the bargain. However, I'm afraid I had to use up the power of the Arkenstone in order to manage the feat."

Dís followed his gesture to the stone that still lay on Bilbo's chest. She could hardly credit her eyes. The Arkenstone, the stone of kings, was now nothing more than a purplish-grey lump of clouded crystal.

She picked up the stone and cradled it in her hands, almost unable to breathe under the pressure of yet another loss. They had lost so much, all the scattered Dwarves of Erebor, and now this. Non-Dwarves would never understand that the Arkenstone was far more than just a large, glowing gemstone. It was the symbolic heart of their people. 

Yet there was no denying that the Wizard had done _something_ here, something powerful. She looked up at Gandalf, weighing him with her eyes. "Do you swear that there was no other way to cleanse Erebor of this darkness?"

"After Smaug's long occupation and whatever dark magics that alchemist might have performed in the past year, this mountain was rife with darkness when I entered. As to whether it would have been possible to cleanse this mountain without using up a powerful artifact in the doing of it? There is only one I know of who could have managed the feat, but she recently exhausted herself near to death by chasing the Enemy from the fortress of Dol Guldur."

Dís's breath caught. "You mean...the Enemy has actually returned? _The_ Enemy." Her mouth twisted with distaste as she added, "The Giver of Gifts."

Gandalf nodded, his eyes dark and solemn. "Sauron."

She shuddered. Around her, the Dwarves of the Company muttered in disquiet at the almost unimaginable news. Dís noticed that while the Elves were grim-faced, most of them did not seem surprised. 

In fact it seemed that the only Elf who hadn't been aware of the news was Tauriel, who asked hesitantly, "The Enemy was actually _in_ Dol Guldur? Could it be--is it possible that might explain the darkness that has spread across Mirkwood in recent centuries?"

"It has been darkening for much longer than that," Legolas interjected. "Mirkwood is merely a shadow of what was once the greatest forest in Middle Earth, Greenwood the Great."

"I believe that is entirely possible, and furthermore, it may have affected more than just the health of the forest itself." Without explaining that statement any further, Gandalf picked up the unconscious Hobbit and stood with him cradled in his arms like a child. "Bilbo is past the crisis stage, but he is by no means at all well and there is no telling how long it will be until he recovers consciousness. He will require a warm and comfortable room in which to convalesce. Where might such a thing be found?"

"We owe you a debt of thanks, Wizard," Balin said in a voice pitched to carry as he and Thorin made their way to them through the crowd of Dwarves and Elves. She gave Thorin a quick once-over and was relieved to see that he looked substantially less shaken than he had earlier, though his eyes were still rimmed with red. 

Thorin gave her a quick nod of reassurance before saying in a voice that could easily carry across a battlefield, "I can think of no greater use for the Stone of Kings than to free the Dwarves of Erebor from the foul corruption that led fine and honorable Dwarves to stray into darkness."

She spotted members of the Company moving to encourage the crowd to shift back, clearing the dais of everyone but the royal family, Tauriel, Balin, and the Wizard with the unconscious Hobbit in his arms. Dís sensed Balin's guiding hand behind this bit of political theatre. 

Thinking quickly, Dís added, "Brave Dwarves such as our cousin King Dáin Ironfoot. He suffered under the curse of the wicked alchemist Skalgar and was forced by dark magics to forsake his loyalty to the rightful King of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield."

Dáin was more than smart enough to play along. "Oh aye, Princess Dís has the right of it," he boomed as he joined them on the dais. "Skalgar was possessed of foul magics which could cloud a man's mind and take away his will. Else I'd never have thought to sit upon the throne which rightfully belongs to my royal cousin and shield-brother, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór!"

The assembled Dwarves roared their approval, stamping their boots against the floor of the Council Chamber.

Dís had to hand it to Balin; the canny old advisor could not have picked a better way to ensure that the transfer of power from Dáin to Thorin would be clear and uncontested.

Balin raised the Raven Crown in his hands, retrieved from where it had fallen during the excitement, and prepared to place it on Thorin's head, but instead Thorin took it from him and lifted it into the air. From the quickly hidden look of dismay on Balin's face, Dís could tell that her brother was deviating from his plan. 

The room fell into silence as Thorin cried out, "Dwarves of Erebor! My people, we have weathered many avalanches together. Long have we awaited the day that the worm Smaug would be ousted from Erebor and a scion of the Line of Durin could ascend to the Raven Throne once more. That day is today!"

The crowd roared. After the noise died down, Thorin continued, "That day is today, but I will not be the one to wear the Raven Crown. The road that we have traveled since the death of so many of our brave warriors at Azanulbizar has been long, and I have grown weary and sick at heart. Though my sword will ever be raised in Erebor's defense, I know in my bones that I cannot be the leader that our people need."

There was uneasy muttering among the assembled Dwarves. Dís met Balin's eyes and attempted to communicate her confusion silently. He glanced over to Fíli then back at her, raising his eyebrows slightly. The message was clear: Balin thought that Thorin meant to abdicate in favor of Fíli.

"My people, there is another who possesses the intelligence and strength to lead Erebor into a new era. The one who led our people to renewed prosperity from the depths of desperation and despair; the one who will lead us with surety and wisdom, forged in the fires of our long exile."

Dís frowned in confusion. It didn't sound as if her brother meant to name Fíli as his heir. In fact, it sounded as if...no, that was absurd.

"My people, I give you Queen Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór!"

 _Thorin, what have you done?_

For a long moment she thought of refusing or abdicating in favor of Fíli, but she knew that it would weaken the throne of Erebor if she refused to take the crown from Thorin. Perhaps once Fíli was older and more mature she could pass rulership to him, but for now, she knew where her duty lay.

Squaring her shoulders, Dís stepped forward and prepared to accept the weight of a crown she had never wanted.

She strode to the center of the dais where Balin and Thorin stood. Thorin clasped her shoulders in his hands and bent his head to rest his forehead against hers. Keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard by any of the Dwarves around them, Dís muttered, "Brother, I will have my revenge for this."

"You will be a fine queen." Thorin raised his head and smiled down at her.

"Why not Fíli?"

"He is young still." His eyes flicked to the side of the dais where Kíli and Tauriel stood hand-in-hand. "And there are other issues to consider."

Dís composed herself as he moved a few steps away and raised the crown in his hands, calling for Mahal's blessing upon her rule. Her mind raced as Thorin recited the long list of their forebears leading back to Durin the Deathless.

If Fíli took the throne, his heir apparent would be Kíli: married to an Elf and soon to be father of a Half-Elf. There was no way to hide that fact, even assuming that Kíli would have agreed to it. He and a very pregnant Tauriel had been holding hands and showing signs of their affection in full view of the entire Council.

No, if Thorin was not willing to rule (oh, and she would have _words_ about that for her older brother later) then the only way to keep the councillors from objecting and the crown of Erebor secure was to hand Dís the crown so that the heir apparent would be Fíli. He was a proven warrior, honorable, handsome, and of an age where many Dwarves who were interested in marriage found their future spouses. And perhaps most importantly, not already married to an Elf.

She only hoped that Fíli's flirtation with Bard's daughter had been nothing more than a light and innocent fancy of youth, for both of their sakes. (Fíli might believe that he'd successfully hidden the eyes he and the girl were making at each other from Dís, but she hadn't been the mother of two mischievous boys for nothing.) Erebor needed a strong line of succession. Considering that both Thorin and Kíli had chosen non-Dwarven partners, that left the responsibility for securing the line of succession to Fíli. If he was truly in love with the girl though...Dís sighed and resolved to speak to him later.

Lost in thought, she almost jumped as Thorin lowered the Raven Crown onto her head. That would have been a fine first impression as queen, Dís thought to herself as she plastered a calm expression on her face. Unsheathing her sword, she raised it into the air as the assembled Dwarves shouted, "Hail Queen Dís! Hail Queen Dís!"

"My people, I will make a formal declaration from the Raven Throne as soon as can be arranged, but until then I do not wish to leave the line of succession in question," Dís said once the noise had died down enough that her voice could be heard. "I name Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thráin, as heir to the throne of Erebor." 

Once again she had to wait for the crowd to quiet before speaking again. She was pleased to see that the reaction seemed enthusiastic. Part of her had worried that the councillors from the Iron Hills would argue for Dáin to be named her heir since he was in the prime of life and a much more seasoned warrior than Fíli. That would be another headache: determining which Iron Hills Dwarves should keep their seats on the Royal Council of Erebor. It would be convenient if they would all decide to pack up and leave with Dáin, but she knew that was unlikely. A worry for a later time, she thought, feeling exhaustion dragging at her bones.

"Members of the Royal Council, we will discuss these and many other matters after we have all had a chance to ruminate on this evening's events. And perhaps even manage a few hours of sleep and a mug of beer, not necessarily in that order," she added. There was a scattering of laughter throughout the crowd. 

She looked over the Dwarves and Elves gathered around the dais. Thorin had stepped back to Gandalf's side after placing the crown on Dís's head. Sometime during her speech he had convinced the Wizard to transfer Bilbo to his arms and now stood tenderly cradling the Hobbit's unconscious body.

Grinning at Dís with unreserved joy, Kíli stood with his arm around Tauriel's waist and their free hands clasped together. Dís saw him look up at Tauriel and murmur something inaudible to her, then the Elf leaned down and they kissed softly and reverently. 

Slightly embarrassed by the display of intimacy, Dís looked away from them to find Fíli beaming at her proudly with Tofa standing at his shoulder. She couldn't keep her lips from turning up in response to the wide smile crossing the mercenary's normally impassive face. As for Fíli, he seemed not to have a care in the world for the fact that he could have been crowned King today. (Actually, knowing her older son, he was probably relieved that it had gone this way.) 

Beyond them she saw the rest of her people: Bofur and Nori, who had traveled from Erebor to Ered Luin and back for the sake of Dís's sons, her not-treacherous cousin Dáin, the rest of the Dwarves of the Company, and even the Elves who had proven...not quite as useless as she might have expected.

Queen Dís bowed her head graciously. "I bid you all goodnight."

Finally, they were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> faelif - soul-link  
> nadad - brother


	25. Dreaming of Dawn's Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get an answer about the ring (or do we?) and see how a pivotal Kíli/Tauriel scene happened differently from the movie. There are visual references for two of the original characters [here](http://garafthel.tumblr.com/post/144065797236/visual-aids-for-chapter-25-of-flowers-among-the).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented! I apologize that I have not had the emotional energy to respond to comments recently, but I do treasure each and every one of them. We're on the home stretch now -- one chapter and an epilogue left, I think.

Bilbo awakened to the delicious scent of fresh-baked bread with butter and berry preserves. His stomach rumbled so loudly he fancied it might be audible outside of his bedroom door. Goodness, had he forgotten to eat supper again? 

Well, first things first--he needed to hunt down the source of that mouthwatering smell and find out if there was any breakfast left for him. Also, tea. Tea felt very necessary right now. 

Bilbo threw back the covers and slid out of bed, his feet landing on the carpet with a thump. He stretched and groaned at the feeling of sore muscles protesting the movement. He hadn't felt this achy and run down in the morning since the last time he'd made the mistake of indulging in Farmer Cotton's famous apple scrumpy. Despite Bilbo's distinct memories of the inevitable hangover, it was an error he made without fail every couple of years.

But now that his mind was clearing from the drowsy stupor typical of having slept for entirely too long, he remembered everything that had happened last night. Everything that had led to the situation that...well, to be brutally honest, the situation that he had fully expected _not_ to wake up from.

There had been the evil healer, and the Arkenstone, and Tauriel crying, and Thorin blaming himself for everything that had happened, and then...

The final piece fell into place.

"Gandalf!"

A door at the far end of the room swung ajar and Gandalf appeared in the doorway. "Bilbo Baggins! I daresay you are not yet well enough to be on your feet. Back to bed with you, my lad."

"Honestly, Gandalf, I haven't been a lad for going on twenty years," Bilbo complained as he reluctantly hoisted himself back onto the bed. 

"Everyone appears to be a child once you reach my age. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Curious, worried, confused..." Bilbo's stomach growled. "Also, peckish. Is there any breakfast left?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled as if he'd heard something very amusing. "My dear fellow, you may have all the breakfast your heart desires."

"That is a very dangerous promise to make to a Hobbit." Although he tried to keep a straight face, Bilbo felt his lips curling upwards as his eyes met Gandalf's. As the Wizard roared with laughter, Bilbo couldn't help joining in. He felt lighter and more carefree than he'd felt in...well, it had probably been before they'd reached Mirkwood on their first journey that he had felt this cheerful.

Gandalf quickly retrieved a tray full of delicious-smelling food from somewhere beyond the open door. Settled against a mound of pillows with a bed-tray across his lap, Bilbo pointed at the Wizard with his fork before diving into breakfast. "Now while I eat, you're going to explain what happened after I was poisoned by Skalgar."

Gandalf settled himself on the edge of the bed before asking, "How much do you remember?"

"Enough to be sure that all of Óin's ointments and all the Elvish chanting in the world wasn't going to be enough to save my life. Whatever was in that poison, it was potent."

"That it was. We almost lost you, my dear fellow. If I had not arrived when I did..." Gandalf sounded old and very weary as his voice trailed off.

Bilbo shuddered as he recalled the cold feeling spreading through his veins as the poison did its work. He remembered looking up at Thorin's face and seeing tears in his eyes. He almost wondered if he'd been hallucinating at that point, because the idea of Thorin in tears over Bilbo of all people seemed so far-fetched. 

"Is everyone all right? Tauriel and Kíli? And, errr, Thorin. Is Thorin well?"

Gandalf smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Tauriel and Kíli were entirely uninjured, and Thorin Oakenshield has become quite a pest recently as he insists on badgering the healers for updates on your state of health."

"What do you mean, recently? Gandalf, how long have I been unconscious?"

Gandalf paused, arrested in the movement of lighting his pipe. Clearing his throat, he said, "My dear fellow, I am sorry to tell you that two weeks have passed since I arrived in Erebor."

"Two _weeks_?" Bilbo put down his fork, sausages momentarily forgotten. "How can that possibly be?" 

"It is no exaggeration to say that you were barely clinging onto life by the time that we countered the poison coursing through your veins. Afterwards you fell into a sleep as still as death from which you could not be stirred. We have been watching over you in shifts since then. In fact, there are more than a few people who will be extremely cross with me that I did not alert them the moment that you regained consciousness."

There was a note in the old Wizard's voice which stirred a flare of alarm in Bilbo's heart. "Is there a reason why you have not alerted them?"

The look on Gandalf's face made Bilbo feel like shrinking into his pillows. "I spoke to everyone who saw the sequence of events that led to you knocking Skalgar to the ground, and they all agreed on one thing: you appeared out of nowhere in mid-air, as if by magic. In fact--" (and here Bilbo winced, already knowing what Gandalf was about to say) "--many of your friends were utterly unsurprised by the phenomenon, stating that of course it was simply your _Hobbit magic_ that allowed you to become invisible."

Oh dear. Bilbo had known that little piece of prevarication would eventually come back to haunt him.

"Bilbo Baggins, I have known a great many Hobbits over the years and they are indeed remarkable creatures, but invisibility is not generally counted amongst their numerous talents."

"I was going to tell you," Bilbo said, staring fixedly at a loose thread in the fabric of the quilt across his lap. He meant to tell Gandalf everything about the ring and the creature, he honestly did, and yet the moment he opened his mouth to confess it was as if his throat closed up and all that he could say was, "I found something. Something in the Goblin Tunnels."

"Something like a ring?" 

Heart thumping, Bilbo darted his eyes up and found that the Wizard was gazing at him with an expression on his face that Bilbo couldn't entirely decipher. Weariness there was, and compassion too, but beyond that there was something ancient and pitiless in the Wizard's eyes. "Yes. It's my ring. I won it, fair and square."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "From whom did you win it? And how?"

"There was a creature, something that lived in the tunnels. Small, like a Goblin, but I don't think that it was one. I bested it in a riddle game and won the ring. Where is it? Where is my ring?" 

The old Wizard's voice was very stern as he said, "There are many magic rings in this world, and not all of them are harmless. In fact some of them are more dangerous than you can possibly imagine." The air around them seemed charged, like the moment before a lightning bolt struck. 

Bilbo froze, feeling a bit like a rabbit that had just spotted a hawk's shadow on the ground. He forced a laugh. "It's just a trinket, really. I used it to hide from Lobelia a few times, for goodness sake. Now can I have my ring back, please?" 

"You may not." Then the tension bled out of the air as Gandalf smiled, and he was simply an old Man in a tattered grey robe again. "I believe that what you found was a fairly minor magic ring, given that its only power was to confer invisibility upon its wearer. But it hardly matters now. The ring disappeared after your dramatic entrance into the Council Chamber."

"Disappeared?" Shock and something that felt perilously like fury coursed through Bilbo's veins. "What do you mean it disappeared?"

"I mean that no one has been able to find your ring since that night in the Council Chamber. It seems to have vanished. It is probably for the best, in the end--even minor magic rings can be dangerous to their holders."

Bilbo was aware of the sharpness of Gandalf's gaze. The old Wizard appeared to be waiting for him to give something away about how much the loss of his ring affected him. With difficulty, Bilbo pasted a vague smile on his face and said cheerfully, "Oh well! I suppose I shall be required to endure Lobelia's future social visits without the option of disappearing. But you know, you never did answer my question. What happened after I lost consciousness?"

"A great many things have occurred, some of which will prove to be of great importance in the days ahead."

"Honestly, Wizards!" Huffing impatiently, Bilbo crossed his arms and glared. "An answer like that is almost worse than no answer at all."

Hiding a smile in his beard, Gandalf made a quiet harrumphing noise and fiddled with his pipe. "Well then, I suppose that I shall have to start from the beginning." 

But as he took a breath preparatory to launching into the story, he was interrupted by a familiar-sounding voice from the doorway. "Mister Gandalf?"

"Ori!" Bilbo exclaimed as the door swung open.

The young Dwarf beamed at him. "Mister Bilbo! Lord Thorin will be pleased to hear that you're awake."

_Lord Thorin_? Bilbo mouthed to himself. None of the Dwarves had ever referred to Thorin with a title before, in his hearing anyway. And why would Thorin be pleased to hear that he was awake? Unless it was that a conscious Bilbo would be a better audience for whatever tongue-lashing he planned to deliver. He knew that he'd been in the wrong to lie about being married to the Dwarf prince; any angry words that Thorin might have for him would be entirely deserved.

Heedless to Bilbo's distraction, Ori nattered on for a few minutes giving him an update on how his brothers were doing. Dori was reportedly making waves in the Weavers Guild and Nori was apparently working for Queen Dís in some unspecified capacity. "Oh no, I almost forgot the reason I came in here in the first place!" Ori finally exclaimed. "Mister Gandalf, Lord Thorin sent me to ask you to check in on Tauriel and Kíli."

Bilbo's head jerked up. "What's wrong with Tauriel?"

"Oh, it's just a small matter, really. Stay here and I will be back shortly." Gandalf wasn't nearly as convincing a liar as he thought he was.

Bilbo pushed his tray aside and slid out of the bed, his heels thudding into the carpet. "If it's a small matter, then you won't mind me accompanying you."

"Bilbo Baggins, you are to stay in bed. You're not nearly well enough to be gallivanting about."

"Tauriel came to me when she could think of no other living being in Middle Earth who would be willing to help her. If you think that I am not going to be at her side if she needs me, you are sadly mistaken." Bilbo fixed Gandalf with the gimlet-eyed stare that he had learned at the knee of his grandmother. He was pleased to see that it appeared to work almost as well on mysterious Wizards as it did on mischievous fauntlings. 

"Hobbits," Gandalf sighed as he turned to follow Ori, but he made no further objection as Bilbo trotted down the corridor after him. 

***

Tauriel awakened to faint light filtering through holes in a half-crumbled roof. She blinked in confusion for a few minutes before looking around to discover that she lay in a nest of blankets in a derelict storeroom in the ruins of Dale. 

Or rather, the ruins of Dale as it had once been. She recognized this room from the night she and Kíli had spent together before the great battle, the night they had wed under the stars. The night that had, unbeknownst to them, planted the seed of their _pîn elloth_ within her womb. She had fallen asleep curled around Kíli, her arm flung over his waist and her chin tucked against the curve of his neck. At sunrise they had awakened to the drums of war; by nightfall, she had been made a widow...or so she had believed for many months.

This was only a dream, she reassured herself as she rested a hand on the roundness of her belly and felt the flutter of movement under her skin. No matter how real it felt in that moment, it was merely a vivid dream, similar to the dreams she had experienced during those long months when she had believed Kíli to be dead.

Fighting back a sense of unease, she made her way carefully through a maze of collapsed stone and rotten wood before emerging into the pale light of an early dawn.

As she looked around her at the ruined city, she realized that she could hear nothing but the faint soughing of the wind. She remembered that there had been been hundreds of refugees from Lake-Town camped in the ruins of Dale that day; the air had been filled with the sound of crackling campfires and tense conversations, and later with the clatter of weapons and cries of the wounded. 

Now the city was as still and silent as a tomb, and though she realized it was a dream the silence was so complete that she felt an irrational fear of making any noise to disturb it.

At first she thought she might have imagined the faint sound of running footsteps in the distance. Tauriel froze for a minute, barely daring to breathe, before hearing it once more. Moving silently and swiftly, she tracked the sound through the rubble-strewn streets until at last she reached a courtyard at which several streets converged. 

At the center of the courtyard stood a corroded circular frame with a few little swan-shaped baskets hanging from it. One of the baskets was swinging slightly as if something had touched it, but her keen eyes were unable to find any sign of who or what had set the basket in motion.

She steeled herself against the irrational feeling of dread and called, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was no reply.

As she crossed to the swaying basket and stilled its motion with her hand Tauriel shivered, feeling unnerved despite herself. Though she knew it was a dream, she longed for Kíli's presence beside her. "My love, where are you?" she murmured.

"Have you lost someone?" The childish voice was filled with innocent inquiry.

Tauriel spun around and stared. A girl was standing where she was certain that no one had been a moment ago. 

She had a round face with pink cheeks and freckles spreading across the bridge of her nose. Her dark, unruly hair was only partially tamed by braids. She wore a pine-colored dress of brocaded silk which was embroidered at the cuffs and collar with patterns of oak leaves and holly. Despite the richness of her attire, the child's face was smudged with dirt and there were dried leaves tangled in her long hair. 

"Have you lost someone?" the child asked again. "Or are you the one who is lost?"

There was something strange about the child's attire. Taking a closer look at the geometric patterns that covered the child's square-toed leather boots and wide belt, Tauriel recognized them as Dwarven designs, although otherwise her gown looked exactly like one that Tauriel recalled wearing as a child. Her eyes were green and her hair was so deep a brown that it looked almost black. She pushed one of her messy braids away from her face and the motion revealed that she had slightly pointed ears. 

Tauriel's breath caught as she realized that her sleeping mind must have conjured up a vision of how their _pîn elloth_ might look as a child. 

"I am dreaming," Tauriel whispered. "This is only a dream."

She remembered pondering the fact that her love for a Dwarf meant that she would never bear a child of her own body that first night, after Kíli had fallen asleep in her arms. As a warrior and a maiden she had never thought much about having children, but she supposed that she had always assumed that it would be something that would happen eventually. She could never regret loving Kíli, but still it had been a slightly melancholy thought to say farewell to even the possibility of bearing children. Perhaps that was why, now that she was so close to giving birth, her sleeping mind had conjured up this imaginary version of her future child in the ruins of Dale. 

"I need to wake up." Tauriel closed her eyes and concentrated on the idea that when she opened her eyes, she would wake to see the face of her beloved under the carved stone of Erebor. Her breath rushed out in disappointment as her eyes opened to see the ruins of Dale once more.

The girl frowned up at her thoughtfully. "I think that you are the one who is lost."

She could not argue with the truth of that statement. 

"You need to find your way home. Where is it?"

Tauriel paused, caught off guard by the question. Home had always meant the shadowy boughs of Mirkwood and the twisting paths of Thranduil's palace to her. But that was nowhere that Kíli could follow her, and nowhere without him could be home to her now.

In the end, the answer seemed obvious. "Kíli is my home."

The girl's smile revealed deep dimples in her round cheeks. Tugging on Tauriel's hand, she said, "Then we shall go on a quest to find him. It will be an adventure!" 

Smoothing a hand over the messy braids, Tauriel smiled down at the child. Figment of her imagination though she might be, it was impossible to look at the bright smile of the girl who could be a vision of her future daughter without her heart lightening. 

"Where should we start?" the girl asked.

"It's usually best to start at the beginning, is it not?" Tauriel frowned. "Although I must admit that I am not at all sure what would be considered the beginning, in this case."

"I think I know where it is!" The girl caught her hand and tugged as she said, "Follow me."

Tauriel took a few steps forward and suddenly found herself standing in a forest with leaves that glowed like green jewels in the rays of sunlight filtering down from a brilliantly blue sky. 

The air smelled fresh and she could hear the rustling of small animals in the brush. There were no spiderwebs strung from the branches above her; no signs of creeping decay in tree bark or root. She saw a small blue-feathered bird flutter from branch to branch, entirely unlike the ominous crows who had been the only feathered inhabitants of Mirkwood for as long as she had been alive. Although it was unlike any version of the forest that she had ever known, somehow she knew that it was Mirkwood in which she stood. 

This was how the forest had once been, long ago when it was known as Greenwood the Great. Tauriel felt mingled joy and sorrow in her heart as she feasted her eyes on the green, healthy boughs of the forest around her.

The girl ran laughing down a path through the trees. Tauriel followed, smiling to see the child's joy.

Before long they came to a meadow which was surrounded by ruby red roses growing on low bushes as far as the eye could see. It reminded her of her foster-mother Meriliel, for though the Queen loved all flowers, roses were her favorite. She would have adored this meadow.

As if her thoughts had called them forth out of nowhere, the King and Queen appeared in a tableau like players on a stage at the center of the glade.

"There they are," the girl sighed. Seemingly fascinated by the royal couple, she shushed Tauriel when she attempted to speak.

Accompanied by a faint unearthly sound of music, Meriliel and Thranduil began to dance together in a stately fashion. Their hands parted and joined again as they circled sunwise around the meadow. Faces radiant with happiness, they both looked younger than Tauriel had ever known them to be. Around the edges of the meadow, the rosebushes grew and twined together into a protective wall of blossoms.

As the royal couple circled around the meadow, a cloud passed over the sun and the color drained out of the world. Wind gusted across the meadow as the sky became the threatening grey of an imminent thunderstorm. The rosebushes withered in mere moments, leaves turning brown and rose petals dropping until all that was left was the rattling of rosehips on bare and thorny canes. 

The music turned mournful and strange but still the couple danced on, though as the world changed they too were transformed. The Queen's hair faded from golden to silver and grew long enough to brush the fallen leaves that covered the ground. A terrible scar spread across the King's face, the skin of his cheek burning away until muscle and bone showed beneath the ravaged flesh. Clasping hands, they whirled together at the center of a clearing above which the cobweb-festooned branches of Mirkwood loomed like skeletal hands.

Slowly, they drew apart, their hands pressed palm-to-palm until only their fingertips touched, and then their hands dropped as the unearthly music and the gusting wind died away all at once. Snowflakes began to fall, slowly and then faster, covering the scene with a blanket of grey and strangely dirty-looking snow.

The King's face turned sharp and feral as the crown on his head grew into a tangled rack of antlers which curled in on itself and punctured his skin with sharp edges like bloody knives. The Queen's delicate circlet of golden roses writhed like something living as it grew long, needle-sharp thorns. Unlike the King, she did not bleed; her terribly transformed crown pierced flesh that had become grey and insubstantial, almost wraithlike. Turning away from her, the King strained to run although he appeared unable to move, like a stag caught in a frozen lake. 

Tauriel blinked as a snowflake landed on her eyelashes. When she opened her eyes she realized that it wasn't snow at all. It was ash. Mirkwood was in flames.

The King and Queen were still standing in a frozen tableau at the center of the clearing. Tauriel tried to go to them but she couldn't move. She shouted at them to flee, to save themselves from the roaring wall of fire she could see approaching from the north. 

"It will be all right," the girl said quietly.

"How can it be?" Tauriel demanded. "They'll burn!"

The girl seemed utterly calm despite the conflagration that approached them. "This is all in the past. The Lady Galadriel made the fire go away."

The wildfire grew closer and closer, flames roaring around them and threatening to burn them alive. Then the flames died, hissing as if someone had thrown water over hot coals. A foul-looking steam formed above the sodden ashes and streamed away to the south.

"What was that?"

"You know what it was. We shouldn't say his name though, not here." Before Tauriel could demand further explanation, the girl pointed to the center of the clearing. "Look!"

The ash was melting away like snow. The heavy clouds parted and sunlight streamed down on them. Among the dead leaves on the ground, tiny pink flowers began to bloom. Pale green leaves covered the branches over their heads. Even the withered rosebushes appeared to be coming back to life.

As Tauriel watched, the King and Queen's crowns returned to their original shapes and the jagged rips in their flesh smoothed over and healed. The King relaxed, his face losing its dangerous, feral look, and the Queen's body seemed to solidify, no longer appearing wraithlike. Turning towards each other again, they each raised a hand to cup the other's cheek. They gazed at each other with such a look of tenderness that Tauriel had to look away.

"They were always so in love..." she murmured. "Sometimes it seemed as if they did not realize anyone else existed, even when they weren't on speaking terms. The Queen would leave to go to her summer manor and it was like the sunshine went away with her, every year. When she finally left for good...I do not believe that the King ever recovered."

Tauriel blinked wetness out of her eyes. Touching her fingertips to her face, she realized to her surprise that she had been crying. "Why did I dream of this?"

"You said that you wanted to start at the beginning." The girl tapped her finger against her lower lip pensively. "This was one beginning, but I don't think it's the one you need. Come on, I think I know where it is!"

The girl darted away and Tauriel followed a few steps behind. The path twisted and turned until suddenly she was standing on the pebbled shore of the Long Lake. The girl was nowhere in sight.

Tauriel turned in a slow circle, verifying what she had known in her bones as soon as she appeared here. This was the beach where Kíli had given her his runestone and pledged her his love. 

" _Amrâlimê_ ," he had said. When she told him she did not know what that meant he smiled, bittersweet. "I think that you do."

As his brother called his name, Kíli had backed away from her reluctantly, his eyes never leaving hers. The moment seemed to stretch out forever as she teetered on the cusp of a decision from which she knew there would be no turning back. Everything she had been taught her entire life told her to keep her silence and do her duty to her people and her King. 

She could not love him, this impulsive and passionate young Dwarf whom she had known for barely a handful of days. How could she love him, when all the days of his life were as fleeting as the brilliant leaves of autumn before the killing snows of winter descended? How could she give up everything she knew for this mad and reckless emotion?

As he backed away into the cold grey waters of the lake, the pain in his eyes echoed in her soul.

How could she turn her back on the truth of her heart?

Kíli's shoulders slumped as he began to turn away.

"Kíli." The breath caught in her throat at the naked hope in his eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment as she gathered up her courage. 

" _Le melin_ ," she told him. Joy spread across his face as bright and blinding as a sunrise.

Now, as she stood alone on the beach where they had exchanged their vows of love, her hand went instinctively to the runestone that still hung in a little leather pouch around her neck. " _Meleth nín_ ," she whispered to the cold and uncaring water.

The faint sound of Kíli's voice was carried to her on the wind. "Tauriel!" 

"Kíli!" Tauriel spun in a circle, trying to determine what direction the sound of his voice had originated from.

"Tauriel!" His voice was clearer now. She spun around again and when she completed a full circle she found that suddenly he was standing right in front of her. 

"My love," she whispered as he drew her into a tight embrace. "I was afraid that something terrible had happened to you." She closed her eyes, tilting her head to rest her cheek on the top of his head.

Kíli gripped her hands reassuringly as he pulled back far enough to meet her eyes. "No, nothing terrible has happened. Yet, I mean." He winced. "Not that anything terrible will definitely happen, but there is a chance that it could."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't entirely understand everything Gandalf was saying," Kíli said, frowning uneasily. "But the gist of it is that our soul-link is harming you in some way. And with the baby putting stress on your body at the same time, it's all becoming too much for your system."

"Is the baby in danger?" Tauriel rubbed her belly, holding her breath until she felt the familiar thumping sensation of the baby shifting position.

"No, no! The baby is fine." Kíli pulled her into another hug, which she thought might be as much to reassure himself as it was to comfort her.

"Are you sure?" For all that she had been ambivalent about her pregnancy in the beginning--and she could admit now that she had been terrified to find herself pregnant and alone in a world that had seemed so bleak and hopeless to her--she felt fiercely protective of their _pîn elloth_. The thought of their child being harmed in some way was terrible, unthinkable. 

"Gandalf promised," Kíli said firmly. 

She took a deep, shuddering breath and once she felt calmer, she stepped away from his embrace and found a sturdy piece of driftwood to sit down on. Kíli remained standing, cradling her hands in his. 

"If the baby is not in danger then the danger must be to me, yes?"

A pained look flickered over Kíli's face. "Yes. Gandalf says that the months I spent traveling to you in spirit while I was under the alchemist's spell caused our soul-link to become too strong. I shouldn't be able to feel all of your emotions the way that I do."

Tauriel startled. "You can feel my emotions through our _faelif_?"

"I should probably have told you, but it was...nice, knowing what you felt. Knowing exactly what you needed from me." He bit his lip. "I couldn't mess things up, that way."

"You should have told me," she chided gently. "Do not fear that you will "mess things up" if you do not know exactly what I need. A marriage is not only about one person's wants and needs, after all. It is about both of us."

She tugged him towards her with their joined hands and he stepped forward, between her knees. With her sitting on a piece of driftwood, Kíli was for once taller than her. She truly did not mind the difference in their heights, but she had to admit that it was nice to lean forward and feel his arms going around her shoulders and his cheek resting against her hair as she buried her face in his neck.

" _Le melin_ ," she murmured into his shoulder.

His arms tightened around her. " _Amrâlimê_."

They remained that way for a time without measure with the soft sounds of the wind soughing through the trees and the lake lapping against the pebbled bank their only accompaniment.

At last she pulled away from him, blinking to clear her eyes of the tears that threatened to fall. She tried to smile up at him, but from the somber look in his eyes as he used his thumb to wipe away a tear that had somehow escaped she suspected that she had not been entirely successful in that endeavour. 

"Why did Gandalf send you into my dream? There must have been a reason more pressing than merely to reassure me."

Kíli's eyebrows drew together. "That _is_ important. However, yes, there is another reason he sent me. He said that we could work together within your dream to stabilize the soul-link and keep it from drawing too much power from your spirit. I'm not entirely sure _how_ we're to go about doing that, though."

How could they do anything to affect their soul-link within her dream? Turning the idea over in her mind, she said slowly, "I think that it would be symbolic, whatever it is. Dreams are built of symbols after all. So what would be a symbol for cutting down on the flow of power?"

"Reducing the flow, damming it up..." He clicked his fingers. "The river gate!"

"It is not usable as a dam in the real world--there's no way to close off the flow of water--but in a dream world? I believe that could work," Tauriel mused. "After all, she did say to go back to the beginning. The river gate was our beginning, in a sense."

"Who is "she"?"

"There was a little girl here, before you appeared." Tauriel cast a searching look around, but the girl had disappeared into thin air. "Perhaps she was just a figment of my imagination after all. Still, I think that we are on the right path with the river gate."

Kíli smiled down at her with his eyes crinkling at the corners as he extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Come on then, my love. Let's go on another adventure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> amrâlimê - my love  
> faelif - soul-link  
> le melin - I love you  
> meleth nín - my love  
> pîn elloth - little flower

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scolding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648894) by [Lady_Juno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno)
  * [Flowers Among the Fallen Leaves [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553943) by [the_dragongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dragongirl/pseuds/the_dragongirl)




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